Higher Power
Under no circumstances should a beginning surfer enter the water at the Lahaina reefs in Maui. Having never received this advice, I am now face to face with death.
I’ve been dating Maya for 18 months and garnered enough good will to be invited to the family’s annual winter vacation. Our destination is the surfer’s paradise of Maui. Prior to this adventure, I have surfed exactly 3 times, enough to be hooked on the thrill of becoming one with the ocean. I’m serious about progressing in my surfing career and have already invested in my own wetsuit, complete with hood and boots, for the frigid seas of Northern California.
I’m feeling giddy about immersing myself in the warm Hawaiian waters with Maya's brother Jonathan (a.k.a. Yoni), an adrenaline junkie who surfs nearly every day in Los Angeles. Within 24 hours of arriving in Maui, we locate a surf shop and rent boards for the entire week. We ambitiously plan to wake before sunrise every morning and surf before rejoining the rest of the family for non-life threatening activities like board games and paddle ball.
I should know what I am getting myself into when on our first surf outing Yoni takes us to Kahalulu beach on the North shore. Joined by Maya and her sister Tamar, we prepare coffee and bagels before dawn and roll into the beach parking lot just as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. We walk to the water’s edge and stretch our bodies in the damp sand, which still holds the chill of night. The waves crash before us, rhythmically coating us in a salty mist.
I watch Yoni confidently stride into the waves and paddle out with the ease of an otter. I hesitantly follow him into the narrow bay, flanked by steep cliffs, liberally sprinkled with wooden crosses, commemorating those who never made it back to shore. I manage to get past the break and enjoy a few tranquil moments in the sea before the makeshift graveyard puts my nervous system into flight mode. After one failed attempt to get on a wave, I wisely evacuate the water.
On day two, we embark to the Lahaina reefs on the Western tip of the island. We drive through lush forests of palm trees under a drizzling, overcast sky. Our destination is a dirt parking lot overlooking a steep cliff. We exit the warm cocoon of our rental minivan, joining dozens of others who are changing into their surf attire. We follow these eager, barefoot guides down a perilous trail to a small rocky outcropping which serves as a dock. As the waves come crashing into the shore, the surfers leap into the abyss and paddle rapidly out of harm's way before the next wave can painfully reunite them with the rocks. Yoni follows without hesitation. Still recovering from the fear that swept over me yesterday, I retreat under the cover of a palm tree and eat breakfast with Maya and Tamar. I savor every slow bite of my everything bagel with cream cheese.
I watch dozens of surfers ages 8-68 catch and ride waves with tremendous ease. I don’t see any wooden crosses decorating the beach. The waves are smaller than Kahalulu beach, and my fear begins to thaw. I am confident enough to enter the sea. I repeat this mantra several times until I believe it. At this point, Yoni has been in the water for over 30 minutes and is nowhere to be found. I am completely oblivious to two key pieces of information; 1) Everything North of the makeshift dock is a mellow bay with manageable waves about 5 feet tall. 2) Everything south is a reef break which can generate massive waves over ten feet tall. I paddle out in the direction of the nearest surfers, and quickly arrive beyond the break.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to relish in my accomplishment. The three surfers in my vicinity suddenly paddle to the north with fierce determination.
“Hmm.” I wonder. “Are they trying to catch a wave over there?”
Before I can think of another possible explanation, I see a massive wall of water barreling down on me.
“Oh shit!” I shriek out loud.
Escaping the wrath of this wave is no longer possible, so instead I take a deep breath, jump off my board, and dive underwater before being pummeled.
Time stands still. The wave engulfs me and sends me in multiple directions at once. I violently flip through the water, not sure which direction is up or down. Somehow, I surrender my fate to the water. My eyes remain gently closed as if I were sitting at home on my meditation cushion.
It has been one year since I attended a ten day, silent vipassana meditation course, and I have been consistently meditating for one hour every day since. My meditation practice saves my life.
I don’t try to escape. I wait for the tossing and turning to subside, then allow my body to float back towards the surface. When my head returns to the realm of oxygen, I grasp another deep breath and dive down before being ripped to shreds by the next wave. Since I don’t open my eyes, I am oblivious to the massive coral reef which lays just beneath my gyrating body, an underwater metropolis of sharp edges responsible for the dramatic breaking of the waves above. I don’t think I’m going to die. I don’t think I’m going to live. I don’t think. Some force beyond my control overrides the intense fear of annihilation that's putting my ego on high alert. I just hold my breath and calmly float back to the surface. This cycle repeats several times, until I emerge from the water and spot my board, which I’m able to retrieve using the leash that is miraculously still attached to my ankle.
A brief pause between sets of waves allows me the luxury of getting my bearings. I identify the shore, a thin strip of boulders resting at the bottom of a steep cliff about 50 feet away. As the next wave approaches I mount the board on my belly, aim it towards the shore, and wait to be violently punished by the water. A rushing river or foam propels me forward before ejecting me forcefully, yet lovingly on the rocky shore. I feel I’m a minor who snuck into a dangerous nightclub where I know I don't belong. My protective older brother (the ocean) finds me, drags me to the door, and tosses me out on the sidewalk.
“What the fuck are you doing here?! I love you, AND you have no business being here. Go home! ” He says.
I am bruised, bloody, and shaking uncontrollably. The cool morning breeze on my soaked body further activates the adrenaline racing through my veins. I kneel awkwardly amongst the boulders and kiss the ground. I pull myself upright against the nearest rock and gaze at the ocean.
“Thank you for sparing my life,” I think out loud.
A clear message arises within.
“You are not done with this life. You have work to do. You must bring forth new life.” It says.
The clarity strikes my core with the resonance of a gargantuan gong.
I enthusiastically agree that I’m not done with life. I nod my head in agreement, hoping whatever force that just communicated with me understands the message was received. My thoughts quickly turn to Maya, who is somewhere on top of the cliff.
I wonder, “Did she see what just happened to me? Does she think I’m dead? We still need to make babies!”
I cradle my board between my left arm and ribcage and scramble gingerly up the cliff with my right hand searching for anything solid to hold onto.
I glance over my shoulder at the sheer drop beneath my toes and pray aloud, “Please don’t let me die climbing this cliff after surviving that tsunami.”
I reach the top and behold the backs of Maya and Tamar observing the sea, seemingly oblivious to the trial I just endured. I plop down beside them, a heap of mangled flesh, and Maya gasps at the blood streaking down my face and arms. I recount my experience, while my limbs continue to shake involuntarily.
After being reassured that I don't have any injuries requiring immediate medical attention, she lovingly scolds me, “Gino, you better not die on me! We still need to make a baby!”
~
For a musical journey about encountering a Higher Power, click the image below.
“I know there’s no death, so there’s no fear
Every breath, is something that I hold dear
Go near the light, sight becomes so clear
Realize on the road to freedom you don’t steer
Better yet, make yourself available
Be a conduit for what life entails for you
it’s time to sail or cruise, I should sell my shoes
When my feet feel the roots, I can’t fail or lose”