How not bodysurfing anymore has been good for me

 

I am a slow learner, but the ocean is infinitely patient with me.

I am lucky enough to live near the ocean; a three or four mornings a week swimming habit evolved into an everyday commitment seven years ago. Over that seven years the commitment changed from being recreational and social to a grounding practice that continues to nourish and surprise me. This is a little about how my soul is being transformed by that practice, not because of what I’m doing as much as what exposing myself to nature intentionally and relentlessly is doing for my appreciation of how I operate in the world.

Why I stopped bodysurfing and embraced dipping (or what my swim community calls bollarding)

I love the feeling of riding a wave; whether on a board, or with a handplane and fins; there are few experiences that give me greater joy. I still pursue that feeling, but not in the early mornings.

One of the reasons is because I became attracted to being in the ocean before dawn, while it’s still dark. Swimming out the back on ones own to catch waves you can’t see coming started to feel foolish. But something else happened that is more important.

It started as an experiment of sorts. Same place, same time, everyday, every and all conditions; get in the ocean to start the day. What would I feel? What would I notice that a periodic or even regular habit wouldn’t reveal?

One of the first shifts was from mindfulness to bodyfulness. It is true that it’s hard to ‘think’ about anything when immersed in the freezing water and pulsing swell, but being mindful, reflective and attentive was a significant move from the recreational habit. During 2020 I met some people and experienced some conversations that made me curious to press beyond mindfulness. I coined my own term for what I wanted to pursue; bodyfulness. Instead of reflecting in my head, I started suspending thoughtfulness and simply surrendering my body to the elements. How was my body engaging the ocean, not what I thought about how my body was engaging the ocean? Rather than my rational mind processing what my body was experiencing, I sought sensations and inputs that were unmediated by my head.

Then I began being attentive to, and noticing patterns. Moon. Tide. Sand movement. Water temperature. Light and dark. Stars and clouds. Wind. Currents. Air temperature. Sounds. Humidity. Wildlife: birds, mosquitos. The combined variations mean every morning of the now thousands of mornings I’ve been at RAAFs beach are endless. But I think it is these patterns and the ‘nature of nature’ that is teaching me about how to live in different ways.

I used to get agitated with nature for not giving us conditions that were good for (body)surfing. But now that my focus is being present, I accept the conditions without judgement. Just the other day, a friend turned up after a long absence, and the seaweed was thick; unpleasantly so. In the immediate aftermath I ‘apologised’ that she had encountered such a shocker on her first morning back. Her response was simply that when you turn up, you get what you get. The gorgeousness of beautiful pleasant dawn dips, with soft light and offshore breezes, are so much sweeter having experienced the kaleidoscope of conditions in the weeks and months around them.

I appreciate how weird it can sound, but there are some mornings when I’m lying in bed and the wind is howling and the rain pelting on the roof, and my body gets excited in anticipation. I would never have expected this. There is something about being fully alive in the extremes that escapes us in the vanilla of life.

For the purposes of the next section, the relevant point here is this; nature just is. As per the oft quoted nordic saying, “There is no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.” There is no such thing as ‘bad’ morning conditions, only inappropriate expectations about how I want it to be.

What the ocean is teaching me about being part of community

When I show up in community environments, I take with me my values, expectations and vulnerabilities. When the relationships or social context fail to meet those expectations, I am disappointed and project that onto others. Like turning up to the ocean with expectations associated with surf forecasts, and either having a crap surf or worse still, the conditions fail to live up to what I had hoped or thought I needed.

I’ve been pondering the deep ecology notion that we are all nature. We are not separate from it. When we act in sacrificial service, we attach words like kindness, altruism, generosity or even bravery. But when we take care of ourselves we tend to use different words, like responsible, diligent, prudent etc. If we are nature, then the usual framing of ‘caring for nature’, ‘saving the planet’, ‘acting in the interests of the environment’, all have a ‘doing it for it’ frame. But what if we are nature, not an actor alongside it?

The relevance here is that I am exploring the idea that community is (like) nature. Why do I allow the wind and moon and sea to just be, but impose expectations on community to behave in ways that conform to what I desire. I used to get agitated with the ocean for not being what I wanted or needed (to bodysurf), but I still get agitated with people for not being what I want or think I need.

What if I learned to allow people to just be? And to be fully present in the experience of that in the same way I am learning to be fully present in nature in the early mornings, without judgement? Instead of lamenting certain behaviours or consciousness, what if I learned to anticipate ‘unpleasantness’ in community the same way I lay in bed looking forward to (so-called) adverse weather?

I am thankful for my ocean loving community who are infectiously passionate about being in the sea. And in particular, my everyday swim buddy, who shows up with her own motivations every morning. I doubt I’d be as boringly consistent as I am currently able to be without her. The joy and value never tires.

I am a slow learner, but I am aware that shifts in consciousness are possible, albeit slow, non-linear and hard to recognise in the present. I am learning slowly, but I am also not flying solo. I am grateful for the people close to me who share the wrestle to close the gap between how they want to be in the world and how they actually show up; what I’ve called the integrity spiral. Prime among them is my partner who’s own commitment to integrity is my inspiration.