True Love

Photo by  Meaghan Miller Lopez AMMA Photography

That's me, totally loving my surf board. I was walking past it and I couldn't resist giving it a big 'ole hug.
It's brought me so far in the last year or so. It's provided me with a dream come true - riding the waves - standing up (!) - and I'm sure inspired me in my latest adventure-to-be.

If all goes well, in January, 2012, I'll be going back to school. Grown-up school.

Ashton will be in pre-school, Trin will be...we don't know yet what Trin will be doing...and I will be studying for a Masters Degree in counselling psychology with a specialization in treating trauma.

I started surfing because after years of training in other people's versions of personal transformation, I wanted to pursue my own version. I wanted to become something - someone - I never thought I could be. 

On the one hand, I had hoped surfing would turn me into someone completely different. Someone who never gets upset about the small stuff. Someone who never yells at the kids, or gets completely worked up when things don't go her way. I thought it would erase all the things I couldn't stand about myself and make me totally mellow and super "cool." It didn't do that.

But surfing has provided me with more joy than I've known in a long time. It has restored me to myself and made me more of myself than I can remember being. It's made me young again in some ways and also grown me up. And it's made me more capable of dealing with the things that really matter.

I'm so glad I'm doing it. It's one of the great love stories of my life.

First Times Cont'd...

1) Friday afternoon I arrived in Santa Monica at around 3 o'clock. The sun was brilliant (a theme in this blog),  the air was warm. And, I realized, the water probably was too, after this week's crazy mid-October heat wave. By that time, I was already on the beach but I stripped off my wet suit and - inspired by a cute bikini-clad mermaid in the waves -  went into the water with only my bathing suit. No rash  guard. No board shorts.  A first.

2) The water was unusually flat, but the afternoon sun sparkled brilliantly on the surface. It was glittery and gorgeous. There were few waves but there sure was a lot of beauty. When I saw the water level drop and rise to announce an approaching wave, I paddled like hell. It was a miss but the water was warm and I didn't mind getting dunked. I climbed back on my board and blissfully stared out at the beautiful vista, considering myself very blessed. I smiled at the lone surfer on my right who was looking straight at me.

Then I saw it. After he did, apparently.

My right breast. Glistening in the sun. There's a reason why girls like me should wear rash guards.

3) I saw something else, too. A strange cloud in the distance. Like smoke from a fire rising up from the horizon. I watched as it approached and eventually enveloped and surpassed me. It was fog. What had been a sunny day turned gray and cool within minutes, all while I sat on my board. When I turned around, I couldn't even see the guard tower thirty yards away. I had never seen that before.

Another first.

Tired

I didn't go surfing this morning. And I didn't go to yoga class before I didn't go surfing. I stayed in bed while Brian took Ashton to the park to practice Kung Fu. I slept in.

Because I was tired.

Every night I put my kids to bed. And every night, around four a.m., Ashton crawls into my bed and kicks me. It's not an aggressive kind of kicking, just a continual thrusting motion with his legs. He also grabs at my breasts and generally gets all over, under and to the side of me. Trinity sometimes gets in bed with us too. She doesn't kick. But she scratches and it makes a hollow fingernails-on-a-drum-head sound that is maddening.

One thing I've noticed about mothers is that we often feel tired but don't understand why. And then we feel guilty because we don't feel like doing the things we told people we would do. Or  because we have a hard time getting going in the morning. Or because it took us two hours to get the kids out of the house and into the car, when it shouldn't have been such a big deal.

But those nearly invisible sources of exhaustion add up and whittle away at our energy levels and our executive functions.

So I slept in this morning and enjoyed the sensation of being touched by no one, kicked by no one, and interrupted by no one. Even with the giant pee stain Ashton left in my mattress after wetting the bed at 5 this morning.

Courage

There's a lot of talk about courage in my family right now.

Yesterday, Brian and I went to see a movie called "Finding Joe" which explores the ideas contained within Joseph Campbell's "Hero's Journey." To be a hero, of course, one must have courage. But what is courage?

For Brian, it has required courage to be a father. Being a father was something he thought he could never, probably would never, do. Still he does it and the very attempt is making him a hero.

For Trinity, right now, it requires courage to take her daily dose of Chinese herbs - herbs which, we are told, have a very good chance of making her well. She told me today  that it will also require courage for her to be well, because being "sick" (with severe chronic eczema and allergies) is all she has ever known. For her to be well will require her to be a hero.

For me, surfing has required courage, of course. There's the courage it takes to face a big wave (sometimes I wuss out) and the courage it takes to awkwardly wipe out  in front of people who are better surfers than I am.

But what requires even more courage than surfing is being broke. My adult life has been a twenty-year roller coaster between heights of adequacy (sometimes abundance) and depths of scarcity. In the past, I would always take the lean times as a sign that I was on the wrong path. So, along with being strapped, during these periods I would also undertake a frantic search for something I should be doing differently.

For the first time in my life I am able to say, without doubt, that I am not on the wrong path. But I'm/we're broke again, anyway. So I'm standing in a new space, saying to myself that "just because the money isn't there, that doesn't mean I'm doing the wrong thing."

For me, THAT is courage. And I believe it will make me a hero. At least to myself.

I Dub Thee...

Last Sunday it was sunny, the water was warm, the waves were perfect and all was right with the world (actually, all is always right with the world, it's just that we're often unable to see it that way).

Because I surf much better when I've done yoga earlier in the day, or have gone for a run before getting in the water, I brought my sneakers to the beach. I ran for about fifteen minutes and then grabbed my board. The 310 Surf Chics were there and though the water was crowded, the vibe was friendly.

The great thing about being a beginner surfer is the opportunity for so many "firsts" and "bests." Well, Sunday was the first time I caught a wave, dropped in, stood up and rode it all the way to shore. So it was also the best wave I ever caught. By far. It was a sweet little thing, but I was enjoying it so much that I was almost on the sand when I realized I was gonna have to jump off at some point.

So I fell forward. Or backward. I can't remember. Either way, I knew I was falling the way you're not supposed to fall when you jump off your board in shallow water. I knew, because I'd recently eavesdropped on a surf lesson for beginners (see above photo) and I heard the instructor say something about it.

When I fell, I ended up under less than a foot of water. But before I could get up, I felt a hard rap on the head. It was my board. It's foam, so it wasn't that bad, but still...it made an impact. The board rung me like a bell and to get those vibrations out of my body, I found myself "shaking it off."  It was the only way to recover from being so "stunned" and I experienced first-hand that the body needs to discharge energy in order to recover from a trauma.

Afterwards, I considered why this had happened.

From a Mechanical point of view, I knew that, obviously, I had fallen in the wrong direction. But then I looked at it Mythologically. And laughed.

Neptune, King of the Ocean, had seen my victorious wave. And when it was done, he gently tapped me on the head with my board and dubbed me...a Surfer.

Surfing As Spiritual Practice

Back in August, I met a blogger named Rachelle Mee Chapman at the infamous faith-bloggers workshop that gave me so much food for thought. She has a website called MagpieGirl.com and has been running a series about women and their "right" spiritual practice. I was honored when she asked me to participate and write a guest post for her site.

It posted today and here is the link: http://www.magpie-girl.com/

Enjoy MagpieGirl.

The Point. Everybody's Got One.

It's not that I haven't tried to write this blog in the last ten days. I have. I've written drafts. And deleted them. And written more drafts.

It's not that there hasn't been anything to write about in the last ten days. On Sunday, I surfed. Standing up. The whole time. With a smiley face in the sky. Again. And last night I went to an event for surfers in  Santa Monica at the O'Neill store and ate pizza and drank a beer. Then I stopped at a bookstore and found a book I'd been seeking - for five dollars.

Things have happened. I've had insights. For instance, according to this book, "The Life You Were Meant to Live," my life path numbers are 30/3.  And last night someone suggested I create a Kickstart fund * so that I could travel into outer space and write about it.

And yet my whole life (including surfing, parenting, love, spirituality) has lately been suffused by a sensation of awkwardness that makes everything come out wrong. Or not wrong but.... as if I'm not getting to the point.

Despite the fact that there is one. Somewhere. Wanting to come out, but buried beneath layers upon layers of...other stuff.

Sometimes there's no wind and there are no waves. There may be brilliant sunshine, but the water is like glass. And all there is to do is be prepared, be patient and wait for your wave.

*I'd use Indiegogo.com instead (shameless plug for my friend Adam).