Since returning home I’ve felt an intermittent sense of boredom, restless and loneliness.
Friday night before a long weekend and I scrawl the net in search of a beach side oasis. No luck. Damn all the organised folk who book ahead.
I awake on Saturday morning to a sunny sky. I text a few people. They too have already made plans. Damn.
After a moment of self sympathy I decide a bit of Kesha time is actually probably a good thing right about now.
Since returning I’ve been torn with indecision. A few life changing decisions I can’t quite get clarity on.
A conversation with my father this week started with “well at your age”… as he reminded me that I was no longer 20. As if I needed reminding. And besides I completely disagree with him, my age is the perfect time to be taking risks.
I drive aimlessly blasting music that sounds how I feel. I find myself at Ponsonby central with a Mayan fire smoothie in hand and a piccolo in the other. Next thing I’m chatting to an elderly European man who’s selling me a cransky and Balkan relish.
Contented with my treats and buzzing market atmosphere I head to the beach.
With 4 books in tow I lay in the sand feeling my body soak up the relaxation. Crickets and birds chatter, boats hum and yet there is a stillness around me.
Life slips from mind, and I feel happy with today and the little things. My only regret is my severe lack of a bikini and water bottle.
Surfing — meditation for people who can’t sit still.
I had quite a sublime experience. It was the golden hour, the last hour of sunshine where the lighting goes all magical. Dappled lighting fell across the water, playfully casting an iridescent glow.
A concoction of colours bled across the sky, always transient as the next one swept by. The sky turned a violent shade of violet as the blue ‘hour’ approached. Twilight lingered briefly in a period of neither daylight or darkness, and then night set in.
All this time I sat on my board. Calm and still. Enchanted by the smell of coconut surf wax, the taste of salt water, the distant echo of waves and the feeling of the smooth water engulfing me.
My desire to paddle for waves faded, as I become more and more lost in my musings. I just sat and reflected. At risk of sounding cheesy, I felt happiness and peace.
For someone who struggles to sit still, this meditation of sorts was quite the feat. This was my closest experience to meditating previously…
There is something quite magical about surfing, and this is coming from a complete rookie. Being immersed in the ocean, thrown about it it’s mercy. I feel alive… Adrenaline dancing through my body.
And I’ve found my new favourite hour to surf. The fact that it’s also shark feeding hour is pushed far into the deepest recesses of my mind.
waiting for the waves…
A splice of beach life in the little surfing town Whangamata, Coromandel peninsula, New Zealand.
This weekend marked the end of summer in the Southern Hemisphere. Tragic. Luckily ever changing weather patterns mean summer will stick around a little longer…