Sometimes when the surf is flat it is helpful (to myself) to paint a surfboard, visualising the end result - which is riding it again. The obsession is real. Too many non surf days in a row and I start howling at the moon. There is a balance to be found and maintained between the all consuming yearning of being immersed in the ocean, a place of beautiful neutrality and the pull of the essential need to be on land to exist in human form. 

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The scope of the bind of obsession soars the heart upward, cushions other aspects and angles of being. Unraveling the extent to which I have relinquished the current state of my mental health over to the ocean is freedom for my soul. 

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The ocean gives me room to breath on land. 

To float in a fortress of water.

To be engulfed in a sea of fortitude.

To look to the horizon for my next move. 

To sit and wait for a sign. 

To hear the air. 

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