I woke up at 5:15, well before my alarm, and was confused at first by where I was. The ceiling was concave, with crown molding four feet from each wall, making a pearly white square indentation above me. I thought about rolling over and trying to sleep the extra half hour before I intended to get up, and then convinced myself that today would be a new day. And, knowing that the one thing that has given me such peace in my life during this last most stressful year, I unpacked my surfboard, screwed my fins into their mount, strapped on my leash, and opened the door.
It was dark, and the humidity was overwhelming. I had to catch my breath and take a moment to adjust. I walked down the stairs and toward the main road I had recognized in front of my hotel. Because the streets were empty I could see in one direction there appeared to be only shops and restaurants and hotels. But in the other direction, there was empty sky.
As I walked in the darkness down this narrow street I began to sense the ocean more and more. There was salt in the humid air. I could taste it and recognize it after 27 years of living with it. I could hear crashing waves and my heart began to get excited. I could be anywhere now, in any part of the world, at any time, and I knew that I would be happy.
When I reached the dark sandy beach I kicked off my flops and walked to the edge of the ocean. A few locals were stretching and running and doing tai chi on either side of me. I crouched to the ground and took the sand into my hands. I curled my toes and let it cover my feet. A wave came and washed over my legs and I felt the beginning of a much needed spiritual cleanse. The sun had still not risen, but it was light enough to be able to see the white crests of approaching waves. This is what I had come to Bali for.
I strapped my leash to my right leg and walked slowly toward an approaching wave. The current rushing about me was refreshing, reminding me that the water where I stood was not where it will ever be again. It flows and moves. My yen and my yang. I saw a large wave approaching and I charged toward it. When I was close enough to clear it, I leapt onto my board and began my paddle to the outside break. Wave after wave crashed on me and I felt energized with each one. In between sets I looked in each direction and found that I was the only one in the water. Knowing that it is usually best to follow others in a foreign land, but being keen on living in the moment, I brushed the thought that something bad would happen to me and continued to paddle to the outside.
It was difficult. The waves were much larger than any I had encountered. But when I finally reached the outside break and sat up on my board, the entire journey thus far had been redeemed. The long flight and stressful day before did not exist out on the ocean. My worries about adjusting and fitting in to a new society and culture did not worry me. I was home, on the ocean. And while the waters here were thousands of miles from my home, and made up a different ocean, I felt like the ocean recognized me all the same. I turned to face the land from which I came and watched an eager sun peek its head above the morning clouds. The sky was turning different shades of red and orange and yellow. As I sat on my board, giant lazy swells moved past me, pushing me up sometimes four or five feet before moving on toward their destiny in the sands ahead. The flow of life. The ocean. A sunrise. They were all tied together.
I caught my first wave in Bali just moments later and the feeling was unlike any I had experienced before. It carried me quickly toward shore, and I realized rather hurriedly that I was in no way prepared for the size and strength of these waves. But I was here, in this moment, doing what I had set out to do. I was riding my dream, and there was no stress in the world, no fear or doubt or anxiety, that could take the peace out of this moment.
Several more surfers paddled out before I caught my next wave, and quickly I was surrounded by people who knew better than me how to ride these waves. But I put aside my lack of confidence and convinced myself that they knew very little of how to be me. And while, after twenty eight years, I am still learning, in time I will master these waves and myself, if only slightly more than before I ventured out…
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