Disappearing into the Sea

Aloha Tribe,

So, some of you may have noticed the long gaps in my blog. What originally started as an ideal every day writing has turned into jotting down thoughts between swells. Sometimes, long sets of swells.

I've been surfing. Lots. And, the more I do, the more I must. My every waking thought now is of surfing. I do it. I study about it. I contemplate it. And, I dream of surfing. When I'm not surfing, I'm training my surfing skills. Skills of observation of the sea, balance, flexibility, studying rhythm of waves and music, increasing strength, and, honing muscles shaped by water.

I'm finding that I'm disappearing. Disappearing into the sea. Becoming one with her. Feeling her, sensing her, embracing her. Being, her.

The more I  find myself riding upon the seas waves, dancing her lines between the edge, the more I find I need her touch, within me, deeply transforming me into her mysteries.

Surfing is becoming more about feeling than anything else. Which, to me, is not surprising in that it has always been movement, both external and internal, that has danced my soul and my body, creating sensations that make me smile upon reflection and remeberance, sometimes softly, sometimes, with ceiling clinging intensity.

I've many chores today, yet, I must away. My  board. My backpack. What more? Perhaps a duffle bag rather than a backpack. The right duffle bag. An over the shoulder model. Probably canvas. Well worn. Something like from Duluth Pack.  A feral surfer's duffel. Duluth Pack should make one, for, it would sell. Such thoughts, make me smile of untraveled journeys.

Daylight calls. What adventure abounds? Slacklining of course. And swimming. Between chores. To the surf, if I can. For, I must away with the sea filling my body.

Bodaciously Stoked,

Lily of the Valley