Good Morning Manly,

Just another blond girl here, reporting on the ups and downs of living in paradise…

THE WAVES DON’T STOP.

I call myself a surfer and here I am craving still waters?

The waves don’t stop. The ocean is liquid for a reason. She doesn’t have a starting point. Her edges bleed into any material that will receive her. She doesn’t follow border rules. It may appear that she gets tired on a beach or a rocky cliff, but she doesn’t. Her waves dilute, but they never stop. They run through you and me. They keep us fluid. They keep us moving through life. Without the ripple effect of her wisdom, we would be stagnant and everything would cease to exist.

The ocean soaks into everything and remains hidden. Her fluctuations work from behind the scenes. So why do I keep expecting things to stop moving? I keep searching for a still point, for a reprieve. She won’t allow it. That’s the worst scenario she could imagine. Even when I don’t believe her, the ocean has my back.

I haven’t written for a while. This year I survived a King Tide. Everything in my life has been excavated, tossed, swirled, soaked, thrown out and changed. It’s hard to capture in words the impact of surviving that kind of a swell.

So why has this blond girl decided to open her computer today you may ask?

It’s time to move on. It’s time to put this year to rest and take a moment, a pause, to reflect, acknowledge, celebrate and share gratitude for everything I’ve been through and everything I have right now.

IT BEGAN WITH A STORM.

I can recall that eerie feeling – It’s the feeling I get when my instinct warns me that a torrent is coming my way. I didn’t know what it was, but it felt big, it felt unsettling and I wanted to board up the windows, run away and hide.

The storm hit in January. The waves ripped my heart open and revealed the foggy lens I was watching the world through. My surf board broke in half. Everything I thought to be true ceased to exist. I thought heartbreak, shame, and loss was enough, but the storm chose to be thorough before she settled. She dug up the rotten seaweed, bleached coral and plastic trash from my seabed as well. I had to look at all of it. I laid in bed for weeks surrounded by piles of rotting, dried, salty debris.

It took a while, and finally I sat up one morning and started picking up each piece. I cleaned them off, thanked them for their part in my ecosystem and put them back in the ocean where they belong.

LOOK! THERE’S SWELL.

(photo credit TED GRAMBEAU)

When there’s swell I have no choice but to grab my board and paddle out. I fall a lot, I hurt myself. I’m often embarrassed and frustrated but I have to get up again. “Just get up!” my friend says. “Get up, get up, get up, get up…”

Once the storm had settled and my seabed was starting to form a fresh layer of sediment, I began to remember how wonderful each new wave was. The sun rises were warm, the laughter was no longer masking pain. I was receiving warm hugs and long chats from friends. I felt like a sea urchin, crawling out of my shell for the first time, looking at the world as a brand new place where possibility exists. I was vulnerable and a bit shy, but I felt excited.

I started to remember who I was a long time ago. I felt like I had been caught in a whirlpool and was finally spewed back out into open waters. I didn’t remember how I got there. I was different now – the sun exposure told stories to my skin, the winds had repaired my protective layers and suddenly I felt more youthful than I had in years. I felt beautiful again.

WAITING FOR A GOOD ONE.

I didn’t give up paddling. I was determined to learn everything I could from the exposed wounds. I went to counselling, woke up every morning and sat in stillness. The stillness felt far from what stillness ‘should’ feel like but I sat anyways. I practiced yoga, on and off of my mat. I returned to the ocean everyday that I could. I shivered in the cool Autumn air and let the sea wash me, over and over again.

I put in the work. It felt like years of trembling, crying on my board, surrounded by hoards of confident men, feeling alone and far from adequate. I never felt like I belonged but the ocean speaks to me and I kept listening to her, “Stay,” she would say, and so I would sit there day after day, sometimes in crowds, sometimes alone, and I’d try. Somedays I was terrified. The smallest waves seemed impossible to ride. Why did it look so easy. Why was everyone so relaxed? It felt unfair.

AN OASIS IN THE OCEAN.

One day a surfer who I had known for quite a while reappeared in the waves. He paddled up beside me and offered me his hand. I felt safe next to him. I was tentative but for some reason I didn’t paddle away. I stayed and we started to surf together. I told him about the storm. He already knew. He already knew everything about me. I never had to share a single word.

He watched me fall off of my board and cry. He let me blame him for my poor surfing. He kept paddling out beside me and saying, “Come on, it’s all good.”

Eventually the blame, tears, fear and running away were proven unecessary. They were ice cubes floating in a cool sea, but spring was coming and they’d have to melt.

As I finally let myself surf with him, unprotected and fine with it, I gained the strength to stand up on bigger waves. The smaller waves weren’t serving me any longer. The ocean was guiding me towards the break that suited the new me and the best part was that I was finally getting to share it with someone else.

The waves got fuller and the seams of my heart started to strengthen. There were lots of days when I tried to put on a thick wetsuit and protect myself from potential cold, but he wouldn’t let me keep it on for very long. He reminded me that shivering is okay and put his arms around me until I remembered that inside, I’m always warm.

I BOUGHT A NEW BOARD.

Feeling more confident and ready to paddle out on my own again, I looked at my beloved blue fish and although filled with great memories of waves survived, I knew I had surfed her enough. It was a decision I had to make – to let her go. She represented safety, friendship, family and growth, but I had outgrown her. I walked into the store just to ‘have a look’ and to my own surprise I left with my first ever brand new performance board. I quit my job that week too.

The past few months I have spent hours battling challenging surf in Indonesia, I’ve spent hours dripping sweat in hot yoga rooms, I’ve moved my life into his beach house, my surfboards have come too. My heart has skipped many beats. It has questioned whether I will fall off again and have to cut my leg wide open a second time?

It’s possible and I don’t want that to happen. I’ve decided I’m going to surf as often as I can and keep practicing, keep listening to the ocean, keep paddling out beside him, laughing with him, watching sunrises and sunsets with him and waking up next to him.

This is the wave I choose and I’m going to ride it as long as I can, smiling as often as I can.

To everyone in my life – you have supported me this past year in ways that can’t be acknowledged with anything other than a long hug in person. I wish I could give each of you one right now. Thank you.

Thank you to the ocean – you are always there for me. You are my best teacher and I will continue to be your humble student for the rest of my life. I respect you and your graceful, limitless power.

Although this morning I resist the waves, I know I would still prefer them over a stagnant pond. Still waters can’t breathe. Waves challenge me because they keep coming, I can’t predict when and how but one thing’s for sure, there are unlimited waves in the sea and without them my life would be meaningless.

Here’s to a brand new year, brand new possibilities and to effortless flow.

With love and light,

xx