surfing lessons

hey dude!  surf's up! let's catch a wave!

or, just talk about it. there are so many great illustrations in nature of things in the spiritual life.  Like in the mighty waves of the ocean.  but before i begin to wax poetical...let's just wax our boards (ha ha) and at least imagine we're sitting out in the waves of Puerto Rico:

Here's a short clip of my surfing lesson in Puerto Rico on Thursday, Feb. 20th.  Our actual surfing was done so far out in the bigger waves that the video camera on land could only catch these first few moments as we entered the water.  At least you get the idea..  here goes:




Sorry I don't have footage of my actual surfing. So I'll explain it instead.

Like all our days on our Feb. 2014 vacation to Puerto Rico, we woke up to a beautiful, gorgeous morning, to the sound of the roosters next door.  Spent the early morning lying in the hammock on the balcony, overlooking green hills topped with brown cows grazing in the grass, with a picturesque background of the blue ocean in the distance, drinking good native-grown strong coffee and fresh papaya and pineapple.  Finally got our cooler packed, swim suits on, and headed out to the surf school where we'd signed up the other day for me to take lessons.

 

It had been a struggle just trying to find the place.  Nothing was easy to find in Puerto Rico.  Street signs, if existent at all, were poorly marked, and roads through the mountains along the coast were extremely curvy and constantly changing in altitude.  After much driving around in circles, we finally figured out which little cement building on a narrow road traversed by mostly stray dogs and pedestrians, was the surf school.  We walk in the open door, (most buildings were open-door in this warm climate) and are immediately overtaken by this wonderful surf vibe.  A few obvious surfers are standing around, and we make our way back to the desk where the owner dude was sitting. Shirtless and tanned, bleach-blonde hair stuffed into a scraggly ponytail, lean, muscular and agile, skin a bit beat-up and scratched by the expected wipe-outs and bifs in the life of surfing.  His charismatic, magnetic and free-spirited personality shines through his blue eyes as he sizes us up, and then lowers himself to my little boy's level, gives him a high five and greets him with a "hey, dude! is this our little shredder?"  (referring to the term of "shredding" through the waves, for the non-surf-literate)  I clear my throat.  "uhh, it's actually his mama who's getting the surf lessons.." Trying to hide his surprise, he stands back up and gawks at this middle-age woman holding out her credit card.  So we work out the details of the upcoming lesson, his eyes glazing over as he talks about the experience, and you can feel his passion for the sport, how he gave up a successful business in the states in order to live here and share that love with others in search of that euphoric feeling of "catching a wave."   I pay the bucks, sign on the dotted line that he is not responsible if I get eaten up by a shark, and we exit.

Two days later:  We find the place again, and i get a quick private on-land lesson on surfing basics, just me and this dude in a bamboo gazebo behind the shop. He explains a bunch of safety precautions, and then gives me a few guided tries on how to do the infamous "pop-up" move, quickly going from the prone position on the board, to the bent-knee squat, arms out for balance, on just the right spot of the board at exactly the right time in order for that wave to lift you into paradise. Then we join the other 2 girls in my class, who had already started taking lessons the day before, down on the beach.  (that's where the first video clip took place)

The other 2 girls were much younger than me, of course, and unlike me they were 2 wild, single, just-out-of-college young women just having a great week in the tropics.  I got to know them a bit as we spent some time just sitting around on our boards way offshore, waiting our turn to be coached individually by our instructor.  The instructor, (i forgot his name) would take us one at a time, guide us to a good place to catch a wave, and review all the basics of what to do while we waited, (and waited...and waited...) for the perfect wave.  When it finally came, he'd hold the board for a few seconds to keep it straight, then yell "GO!!!" when it was our turn to paddle like mad as the wave approached behind us, then he'll yell "pop up!!!" at just the right second for us to rise up and dominate that wave.. or wipe-out right away and get pummeled to death, which was usually the case.  Either way, it was fun.

It also could be a bit scary. These waves weren't like the little bumps in the surf we've seen in North Carolina, those mild, quickly crashing, fun-to-boogie board-to-shore kind…  No, these were scary.  Lying out there, what seemed like half a mile from shore, looking  in… those waves had a mind of their own.  It was more like this massive turquoise blanket being raised up from the very bowels of the deepest ocean depths, till this quickly cresting wave comes hurtling up, faster and faster towards shore, and from our perspective, lying on our boards, we’d feel the mighty wave raise us up while still just a swell, then watch in horror as our friend who was at the crest of it with the instructor,  would suddenly disappear behind this big wall of water, and maybe we’d see her rise up, maybe not.  Usually we just waited till we saw the white longboard go springing up into the air after she met her fate of a nasty spill, the usual conclusion of any of our attempts.  There was one set of waves in particular that REALLY put the fear of the Creator in me…  We’d been hanging out beyond the breakers for quite some time, waiting for the other girl and the instructor to get the perfect wave so she could take her turn.  It was flat for a long time.  Then it came, out of the blue, no pun intended, and seeing the speed and voracity of that wave.. I seriously was wishing I could just be air-lifted out of that place that very second!  How on earth would I be able to make it to shore ALIVE with a monster like that at my heels?  My horror was intensified when I watched how the wind ripped along the top of the wave, blowing a thunderous swoop of mist across this curling masterpiece.  My reaction came out in just two words:  “holy cow!”  ok. I apologize.  Cow was the not the actual word that came to my mind or lips at that second.  This was too real, beyond sense or moral justification of expletives.  I was scared.  But I lived through the moment, listened to my instructor and did as I was told, and I feel stronger today for facing that fear.  

Thinking back on it, it's easy to see the connection between rising up to ride one of those monster waves of the Carribean, and how we respond to the big "waves" in our lives. Those scary or uncomfortable situations that we aren't prepared for. Do we want God to just air-lift us out of them so we can totally avoid them? Not usually possible. How about just giving in and letting yourself getting sucked under and pummeled to death. Not a good option, either. You could just try to "boogie-board" the wave to shore, staying low on your belly, where the ride is nice and safe. Or, you could take a chance, stand up and try to surf it. You'll have the best view ever..and it just might give you the ride of your life.

I hope to give surfing another try sometime. And when i do, I hope to come back with more life lessons to share. hang ten, dude!