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.
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.
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.