The saying “only a surfer knows the feeling” has never held more weight than right now.
At least around this island, that is.
From an outside perspective, surfing can appear as an obsession, or just another form of physical exercise, or a way to spend time in nature. And while surfing is those things, for many of us, surfing is also so much more.
For many of us, that time we spend bobbing around in the ocean is where we clear out our heads, release pent up emotions, and connect with a Power much greater than ourselves.
Similar to yoga, the act of surfing - or spending any amount of time in the ocean, for that matter - asks us to be present. In fact, surfing demands it. And for many of us, flying down the face of a breaking wave on a fiberglassed piece of foam is the only time that we are ever truly 100% present, in the moment, away from the chaos of the mind, connected to intuition, and responding totally from instinct.
And like yoga, surfing is very a moving meditation, just as much a spiritual practice as it is a physical sport. To many, the ocean is church, and just like church, the ocean is a place where many people go to pray and give thanks.
In Sam Bleakley’s book, Mindfulness and Surfing: Reflections for a Saltwater Soul, Bleakley quotes French lecturer and surf writer, Andy Martin:
“Steven Kotler has argued (in his book West of Jesus: Science, Surfing, and the Origins of Belief) that there is a neurochemistry of surfing that tends to produce a heightened receptivity to feelings of transcendence. Perhaps there is no activity that is not potentially philosophical, but it has always seemed to me that the collision of (as Sartre would say) the in-itself (the wave) and the for-itself (the surfer), with all its possible outcomes of pleasure and pain (the wipeout and the hold-down), and especially the tuberide, with its narrative of being buried and then (ideally) reborn, naturally gives rise to a contemplative state.”
Bleakley goes on to say, “We might enlarge the connections to suggest that the “coastscape” (landscape + geography of the coast) is the fabric of transcendence, holding the surfer in its field. Perhaps, surfing is neither sport nor recreation, but what late poet, novelist and lay psychoanalyst Peter Redgrove (1932-2003) called a ‘hole-in-day’ (a pun on ‘holiday’), an everyday opportunity for transcendence.”
When surfing gets taken away…
Recently, under Executive Order in response to the Coronavirus Pandemic, beaches were closed and surfing became illegal here in Puerto Rico for the last two and a half months. And in Rincon, a surf town where surfing is not allowed - never thought I’d see the day!! And to be completely honest, it was actually pretty gnarly from an ocean-loving, surfer’s perspective. Cops were heavily patrolling beaches and surf breaks by boat, helicopters, 4-wheelers, and cars. I’ve never seen that much police presence around the coast since I’ve lived here, something I found to be a little surprising for an area that commonly sees illegal boats pass through, typically transporting drugs. With the heavy enforcement that we saw here, you would think surfing was the main way that the virus was spread.
Despite all of that, people were surfing. And after a few weeks in, I was surfing. Heightened nerves due to the police presence and threats of large fines or arrests took a lot of the fun out of it, for sure, but, like many, I needed the ocean more than I needed my fears or anxieties. Like many, I needed to be cleansed. I needed my church. And most of the time if someone got caught, the police took their info and issued a warning, threatening to arrest if seen surfing again. A few didn’t get so lucky and were arrested, given notices to appear in court.
And I really don’t want to get into a Coronavirus re-opening/not re-opening debate. That’s not my intention with this post. Before we go any further, I want to say that I understand that surfing is a privilege, very much so. But I believe that access to the ocean is a right. Not the beach, the ocean. Sitting and chilling and partying on the beach is VERY different from crossing the sand to get to the ocean to surf. And this post isn’t about shaming people that did surf, or didn’t surf, or whatever… I don’t care what your view is. I will do what’s right for me, and you do what’s right for you. I’m over the online, hide-behind-your-computer-screen, shaming other people bullshit :)
The reason I shared about the surfing ban, and a short insight into my experience with it, is because the day the ban was (semi) lifted, a late season swell arrived, and surfers around here? Well, they were cured.
Locals here will often ask one another, “Te curaste?” which literally means, “Are you cured?” meaning, “Did you get in the ocean today?”.
And as that beautiful, late-season, long-period swell rolled into town, there were guaranteed smiles for miles up and down the coast. Everyone was frothing. Beaming. Happier than they’ve been in a long time. People were cured. And even if you’re not a surfer, when others around you are genuinely happy?? Well, that happiness is guaranteed to rub off on you too. So, in a sense, surfing is just as positive for the surfers, as it is for the collective as a whole :)
The stress of lost work, the uncertainty of the future, the fear of the unknown is all washed away when we immerse ourselves in the ocean. The roar of the waves helps to quiet the incessant chatter of the mind as the salty air persuades the sensations to focus the attention on the moment, right here, right now.
The place where it all makes sense.
Only a surfer knows the feeling… And I’m damn grateful to be “legally” sunburnt, salty, and completey surfed out. Estoy curado!
And if surfing is not yet “legal” wherever you live. I feel for you. Surfers as a collective feel for you. Hang in there, you’ll get through it, the ocean will embrace you, and soon you’ll be cured too.
