This is a love letter. Photo: James Rheinberger
I have something to admit. I’m having a love affair, and it’s been going on for a while now. I guess if I really think about it, it all started when I was a just a child.
I didn’t experience the ocean until I was ten years old, but I’ll never forget that first time. It was the summer of 2001, and I was headed to Daytona, Florida with my cousins, aunts and uncles. Upon arriving at the Paradise Hotel in Daytona, I literally threw my bags at my aunt and headed straight to the back of the hotel where I was told a big mysterious mass of water was awaiting me. The sun was just beginning to set. Reflections of shimmering gold and deep orange lit up my face and beamed into my eyes as I ran as fast as I could towards the ocean. I didn’t bother to strip my clothes off – I bee-lined straight into the magnificent symphony of waves rolling in.
The instant my legs hit the water, I fell head first under a “big” blue wave. My entire body was immersed and instantly new sensations never experienced before washed over me. I felt as if I was being reborn; as if I was soaking in the place of my birth. All feelings of excitement, exhaustion, jet lag, happiness, and rebellion lifted. I was vacant of thoughts, feelings and emotions. I was nothing more than one of the billions of atoms flying in the sky, a mere particular of existence in the sea of life. Surging out from the water, I inhaled and took a deep breath. Floating in what felt to be the essence of life, I fell in love. It was all-encompassing. Not only did I feel one hundred percent connected to the water, the sand, the golden sun, and all the animals of the sea, but for a split second I truly felt that everything in nature, living and non-living, was united within me through the energy of the ocean. It was in that moment my love affair with the ocean truly manifested from a dream to an actualized physical expression that keeps me coming back, time and time again. Everything about the ocean, from the salty crust that dries on your skin to the foamy bubbles that leave you floundering like a fish out of water and the oh-so-mysterious unknowns that swim beneath makes me weak in the knees and short of breath.
Even before I had ever seen the ocean in person, I knew I was falling deeply in love with it.
I was five years old making my usual rounds of the small mountain town I grew up in. Curly brown hair bounced atop my overly big head as I skipped across the street in a Mary original outfit that consisted of my sister’s hand-me-downed hand-me-downs. While walking in the aisles of a local store, something spectacular caught my eye. A brilliant waterfall glowed in the background of a small Fiji water bottle. Mesmerized by the flashy picture and boarder of green ferns, I quickly tossed some change on the counter and walked out of the store eyes fixated on the bottle. I hid the water bottle in my backpack and never drank from it. Every night before I went to bed, I would stare at it, conjuring up dreams of living in Fiji and becoming a professional surfer. I don’t know why I hid the water bottle from everyone. It was so special to me and ignited a sense of longing and love in my heart. It was something so sacred that I felt I must keep it a secret. From that day on, I saved every penny so that some day I could make it to Fiji and become a pro surfer girl.
So here I am, twenty-four-years old. I’ve never been to Fiji, and I’m far from a professional surfer, but surfing and the ocean have become an addiction. My ultimate form of expression. My medicine. My peace of mind and, more than anything, my greatest love. All I really seek in life is balance; calm and content being. For me, that is what surfing and the ocean represent.
So using the $1,300 dollars in change I managed to collect from age five to seventeen along with any savings I can mange to conjure up along the way, I travel as many places as I can to see her, feel her and be with her. Up to this point, I have surfed and traveled all around the United States, Costa Rica, Mexico, South Africa, and now find myself in Hawaii, the birth place of surfing, all on account of my addiction.
The sounds of crickets and coqui frogs bless me with a tuneful morning wake up chime. It’s 5:00 am, and I’m headed for a dawn patrol surf session at Pohiki. The darkness of the night had faded into a gentle gray stillness, and moisture from the night’s rainstorm creates a cushioned bounce beneath my feet as walk down to the ocean. The spirits of the night fade into the sky as the bright sun peeks above the horizon. The crashing of the waves is like music to my ears – soft and steady, yet loud and crushing, reminding me of how precious life is. As I watch to see the waves rolling in, a man opens his arms to the ocean, welcoming in a new day and giving praise to the sun that radiates over the sea. There is something about the tradition of Hawaiian surf that is so compelling. It’s part of their heritage; who they are and what they give to this world. The spirit of aloha lives in these waters, and with every wave that breaks, one can hear the melodies of surfing ancestors.
I am greeted by the loving open hearts and ear to ear smiles of Hawaiian uncles. They are out there every morning and have been since before I was born. A meaningful aloha is exchanged between each of them and the sea. As I spot a wave, I turn my board to shore and begin to paddle. I hear an uncle in the background encouraging me. “Go girl, go girl, you got it!” he shouts. Shifting my weight forward, I peel my body from my board and jump to my feet, and all tension and adrenalin is released. I am flying in elements of complete freedom. As I kick out off the back of the wave, I recognize the delicate balance being played out between life and creation. Without water there would be no us. The ocean is the vessel of our creation, the ship on which our entire existence resides. While underwater, I take a moment to bask in this understanding, sinking and falling deeper and deeper in love.
I know I will make it to Fiji someday, but in the meantime I give thanks every day to the ocean, sun and sky. Pro-surfer or not, the surf lives within me.
