Surfer's Worship

I have often talked about acts of worship, and how I look to pay homage to whatever beings hold the miracle of creation in their hands. Whether it's Momma Ocean, Neptune, Triton. Whatever deity or higher royal power they may be. We, being mere mortals, give them human personifications and call them "He", "She", or "It"...because in a sense, our knowledge of the things that BE are so limited. There is vastness that we cannot comprehend beyond our small way of thinking. I think that's where so many people make a mistake of putting the involuntary action of breathing into a box and labeling it "LIFE". We put just enough into the box for our little friend to merely exist and say we're doing our best. When really, all it wants is to allow us to sprout wings and fly. To blossom and grow. But we hide it from the sun and say we're protecting it. How small is that?

This morning, Momma Ocean not only beckoned...she rang the bell and said "NOW, my children..now is YOUR time...I give this to you." The ones who heard ran to her with wide eyes of wonder and smiles so radiant they could not be kept hidden away in a small box. Wings sprouted. Not near the pier, but between the jetties, she laid down her hand and said, "Come play!" The lineup grew. She pounded the beach and every wave she gave sent up a mist so fine that when it hit your face it felt like the perfect kiss. 3's and 4's, long and clean and breaking right. One after another. She sent them down like bowling balls down an alley. Every single one a strike and you prayed someone was close by so that you could give a high five. The kind of day where you looked over your shoulder when you finished your ride just to see if the guy next to you would be as blessed as you...but you already KNEW he was, because he was looking over his shoulder at the guy behind him too. The kind of day where the gonzo Blackie's guys didn't stand around in their Ugg boots, drinking coffee...they suited up and came to the "church of Momma" because they couldn't stand the thought of not being part of the services. It was what Branden Diaz called "Tavaruan Bliss," but it was happening right here in Newport. You'd paddle out, and you wouldn't even have time to say "thank you", because SHE had already picked you up and brought you in. So you'd belly up and go for it again and remember that you should be grateful on the way out because you knew She'd be there ready to take you again.

You ached when you were done, but in an entirely awesome and profoundly satisfying way. That smile you started with is still on your face and your face hurts because you can't stop smiling. Everyone you pass with their sticks on their heads or under their arms, coming in or paddling out, sense the incredible fellowship and they feel as if the sermon can go on all day and they won't ever fall asleep while She preaches. Touched to the very core by an incredible gift.

Today, the Life Box opened and joy flew out. Living, breathing, blossoming joy. Worship in its most precious sense.