My wisdom school

I was out in the surf at dawn this morning, each morning the light just a little earlier than the day before. Southern summer approaching.

It was a soft and small wave. Not enough swell. But no wind at all. Glassy conditions.

So many fish. Whales close by.

My first wave was long, I managed to ride it until it petered out.

And then, for a whole host of tiny reasons, frustration set into my mind. A part of me watched my slow, steady disintegration into an inner war of the most minute proportions.

This is one of the many reasons why I love this new sport of mine. Not only am I with Nature and at her beck and call, those moments between waves, waiting, watching, are an oceanic form of mediation. I become the silent witness of my thoughts. I see them arise. Capture. Conquest. Take possession.

I have never been one to sit still and meditate. Stillness is for sleeping. My meditation has always been active, through movement. Long-distance running. Lap swimming. Now surfing.

This morning I observed this turn from riding a great wave to being captured by frustration. And then my frustration providing the evidence for more frustration, a cycle of chosen self-determinism, entirely predictable, and, from one perspective, incredibly laughable.

How do I seize back the reigns of my errant thinking? Stop this small slip into silly?

Remind myself why I am here. The beauty. The joy. The fun. Being with my love. Learning. In Nature. The privilege of being able to do this sport at all.

How easy is it to forget these precious moments?

Did I succeed in changing my mindset? Not entirely, but I certainly pulled my rogue self-critiquing part of me back enough to find a great wave to the beach.

And from this perspective, I can determine the power of my morning lesson. Against the backdrop of a world of people devouring themselves with cruelty, ocean time is peace and perspective time.

My wisdom school.

Photo Taken June 29th 2024

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