When my husband comes back from surfing, he glows. It's as if the ocean coated his body with what I call "happy juice." He is invigorated; yet is calm, clear, and radiating well being from head to toe. Surfing makes him very happy.
There is something about this flow, motion of the wave to catching it to standing up on the board. To many, surfing is a soulful connection to nature and the earth, a therapeutic embrace, a bonding. Like a dance, the movement can be nourishing, grounding, connecting.
Waves are movement, energy. A surfer must catch the wave, feel the push of energy, hold on to it and ride it, and then let it go.
To me, surfing can be frightening. There are many unknowns: What's out there? How strong is the wave? Will I be gently pushed and pulled by the waves, or pummeled and thrashed around? And of course, the light, warm, calm Tropic waters are much more enticing than the cold, dark, vast (and sometimes shark filled) waters of Northern California.
But what is this fear all about? The same fear of the unknown I experience working in the hospital with the mentally ill? What, exactly, am I scared of? Death? Pain? Loss of control? Being 'pummeled'? Not being a strong enough swimmer?
When I do ride a wave, I feel a deeply gratifying sense of accomplishment, a feeling very difficult to describe with words. Similar to the way I feel after a day at the hospital, I feel strong and proud and confident. A sense that through movement, a deep connection to self, to others, and to world emerge.
The Jimmy Miller Foundation in Southern California is a nonprofit Ocean Therapy foundation, that enables children with physical and mental disabilities a "pure surfing experience." Check out their website here.
I think I need to get in the water more often...
Dancing with ~ and without ~ dementia
4 years ago
I will always wish I surf more. Plus, I think the salt water helps my sinuses.
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