It has been a year since I jumped in the waves, so I stand in the water a newbie, unacquainted with the ebb and flow. There is no controlling the water, merely seeing clearly and responding appropriately.
Waves roll ceaselessly-sometimes my eager mind wants me to jump in front of a wave before the wave has arrived. Sometimes my regretful mind wants me to jump after a wave already gone. Sometimes, I wait and jump with the wave, caught up into the swirling process of breaking on the shore, pushed along into the shore, not caring or worrying for a thing just knowing the exultant motion of life: balanced between air and water, rolling along, held tenderly in the center, the wave and rider are flung together with sand and foam and shells and motion and seaweed and friction and light . . eventually I emerge, the wave gone, and stand up and drain the water from my sinuses and nose and eyes, establishing some idea of inside and outside, and walk to the waves.
