The salt and my skin was the perfect match. Even my hair seemed to welcome the Atlantic once again. Yesterday’s doubt was quickly washed away and I was reminded of where I once came from.
A child of the ocean, from the ocean and for the ocean.
Although the cold got through and my feet went numb, the clear water hypnotized my senses and nothing else mattered. At least not for a while. Everything there was; was the sky, the building waves, and my board.
The paddling seemed effortless and the timing was easy. Stiff joints from the cold made the movements slower, but I did not care. I was in the ocean, for the ocean, from the ocean. And it felt like playing with my best friend.
What is a wave, but a signature of the ocean. A unique expression, it rolls in once, and then it is no more. But it is still the ocean, movement and energy.
What is a ride on a surfboard, but an honoring of that wave.
Of its birth in a random storm far away and its travels towards the shallow waters, where it may break and finally come to rest.
When I paddle to catch it at its peak, it does not go unnoticed. Whether it wipes me out or lets me ride its green shoulder, the force of the ocean travels inside my body and fills me with a deep respect.
We are but mere difference in form. Made up of the same. Lets meet in awe of the creation.
Next time I will be the wave.