Fear, or ‘Learning To Surf’

Me at surf school last year!

Here’s a spoken word poem I wrote while learning to surf.

There are those who say

Better never to meet the ocean.

To observe the tide

Or paddle out between the sets.

Or to wait in the swell

With silence

And respect.

Never see a sun ray

Kiss the ridge of a wave

That soon becomes a wall.

This could lead to failure

Or a fall.

Better never to have paddled out

At all.

A glance behind,

I find the wave with my eyes

But the shape and speed are not fixed

Some things we can’t predict

It could die or split: a second too late

And the moment’s missed.

A lazy arch of the back

And I’ll nose dive

And sometimes

I just lose my faith

Or I’m so tired

That I do a kind of slow slide

And renounce my body

And my breath

To the tide.

Some say there are dangers in store.

Better stay on the shore,

Aim for a low score.

Those who want more might fail.

Better never to let the wave catch your tail.

I stretch out, hold steady,

Press my face to the nose,

I flatten my toes,

Hold tight to my saddle

The harder I paddle

The faster it goes.

Like a giant

I rise with the swell

Like the pearl in some humungous oyster shell

Or the clapper in a cathedral bell.

Most often,

It doesn’t go that well.

And the next thing I sense

Is salt on my tongue

A crash and a rush

Which way have I gone?

A tug on my leg,

Board sailing ahead,

And my soles search for the sea bed

Instead.

At first,

I behold the expanse

And I curse.

But almost as soon

I’m bowing before the horizon:

I look to the moon.

I whisper my gratitude for the tides,

And the sting in my eyes, and

Some say it’s a lucky escape.

You dreamed in the shape of a wave

Don’t you see?

That’s a dangerous game.

Let the passion fade

And wade in

To wait in the shade.

But waiting for nothing is worse

Than dreaming can be.

There’s a secret between the ocean and me.

I’ve been to the other side

Danced in harmony with the tide

Felt a synergy with the sea

This union of body and mind

The peace that falls upon me as I glide

With the stillness inside

It could swallow me whole

But it makes me a king!

I can fly on an eagle’s wing

And the clifftops sing

To greet me where I land

As I dance over rocks

And sail over sand

And freedom does not have a throne.

Freedom is catching a wave on your own.

Riding your fear with courage and grace,

Entrusting yourself

To the ocean’s embrace.

(The answer to yesterday’s question was ‘two’.)