Oh how I admire the real wave riders of this world. Those who break the dawn on the powerful swell of the sea; those who merge, fearlessly, with the rise and fall of the brutal and beautiful depths; those that know the grace that's hidden in the challenge.
But I am not a real wave rider… just a metaphorical one. And I love that.
I love that just as their physicality expresses the rarity of this precious adventure, so do these words. There is a place for real wave riding, and a place for reflecting on this wave riding that is Life.
Just as the surfer plunges into the abyss, so does this experience. Just as there are those who do not understand the surfers risk for it's reward, there are those who do not understand the risk of these writings, and the magnitude of the gift that I receive from them.
This looking into the nature of reality, this dropping of all assumptions in the name of what is real and true, is a love like no other.
It requires a certain fearlessness, or rather, a willingness to use that fear like the surfer uses that inkling of the swell… as a power that propels them to their feet, and joins their body with the curl of the tide.
That is what these words do for me. They plunge into the depths and bring out freedom.
They go where I never before dared to go, and they show me what ALIVE really feels like.
And just like the surfer sliding down that wave, the joy is purely my own.
It can never be transferred or explained to another, they must see it for themselves. It is the surfers freedom that inspires others to jump in—and test the waters edge for themselves.
Just as the surfer lures onlookers out of their comfort zone, so does this looking lead me out of mine.
And now that I've tasted the crest of the ocean, I know—
there can never be any comfort that is greater than being free.