Riding the wave

santa-cruz-surfer

Sometimes I write from pain.  Sometimes I write in healing.  Sometimes I write from nothing at all.  This is about healing.

It’s like getting a bad cut and then going surfing.  One expects salt water in a wound to hurt like hell.

And, there’s the risk of getting cut again while surfing, but I push that thought away, out of my consciousness.  Fear is not going to prevent or defeat me.  The cool, enveloping water beckons.

Now, suppose I tell you that I feel like we are surfing in Magic waters?  Waters that close and salve wounds, cleanse and remove old scars.

The rush I feel is the intensity of that initial, stinging pain — partly real because of the foamy, swarming brine, but mostly the clever work of the Inner Saboteur, the devious Brain and its constructs and obstructs — quickly followed by the elation of paddling and riding in the soothing, powerful water and its curative, invigorating touch.

The lacerations mend instantly, the blisters melt, and the scabs fall away.

The question is not “Do you have any scars?”  We all have some.  The trick is, are you willing to show them?  Even if they make you feel ugly?

The paradox is that if I kept them hidden under wetsuits and wraps, I could surf and play, but I would exit the sea as the same person.

By empowering my heart to go skinny dipping, I opened myself to the healing and emerged stronger, Closer to Fine.

I peeled back the outerwear and the Under Armour and revealed a scar.  I don’t know what it looks like to you, but to me it is hideous.  I forced myself to look in the mirror and confront it.  

No one else has to look at it.  They may look or turn away.  By my nakedness I allow my vulnerability.  I’m not asking to be judged or hurt, although I have to accept those possibilities if I’m going to do this.

Thus, I leapt into the water.

And yet, the more I expose the cuts as I cut through the waves, defenseless, I learn that no one except the Saboteur is trying to harm me.

The other surfers are busy riding their own waves.  I both share the ocean with them, willingly and joyfully, and stay out of their way, yielding when they time the swells and find their space.

I’m literally and figuratively trying to ride out this wave of growth and self-discovery.

I surfed the waves and slayed a demon.  I shed that disfigured part of me much as I removed the neoprene, and I left it in the past, lying in the sand.

The new me, the now me, has evolved again and is one step closer to my higher self.

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About goldenbearflyer

Robert Martz is a writer who doesn't make any money writing, so he keeps a day job in finance. He lives and works in Walnut Creek, CA. He began blogging in 2011 as a way of taking responsibility for and finding a place to put his thoughts and feelings. He loves to eat, cook, and travel. He volunteers, practices yoga, runs, bicycles, hikes, and explores nature with passion and a child-like sense of wonder. He is inspired by his amazing friends, doers and other writers. Check out another of his blogs at http://goldenbearflyer.webnode.com/.
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