Learning to surf at the tender age of 42 has been….well….hilarious! I wish I had video of this process. I didn’t realize my body was so capable of contorting itself in so many directions as it’s being tossed around by miniature waves.
For those unfamiliar with surf lingo, an ankle biter has nothing to do with sharks or any other sort of sea creature with teeth. Basically, it’s a baby wave. You know, the kind you would feel comfortable with your toddler waddling out to play in, or when the ocean takes the shape of a vast blue lake with adorable little ripples gently rolling into shore. These are the types of waves beginners learn on and the type I heave my board over the sand for and into the water to paddle out to. These are called ankle biters…
…and they’re terrifying!
You might think I’m being a bit overly dramatic, and maybe I am, but having never before lived by the ocean and growing up with a ridiculous fear of water, (I wouldn’t take showers until I was 12 because I couldn’t tolerate water hitting my face), the idea of me leashing myself to a board while being thrown about in an uncontrolled oceanic environment was, shall we say, a stretch?
Miraculously, despite my water anxiety, I did learn to swim as a child and eventually became comfortable around pools and lakes, so some of my fears had fortunately dissipated. However, when it came to moving water, such as fast flowing rivers and waves crashing in the oceans, my fear would surface like the rising tide. It was the unpredictability and feeling of being completely out of control that overwhelmed me. Oh, and did I mention the rips? Those sneaky little undercurrents that drag you mercilessly out to sea? Yeah, well those didn’t help my psyche much either.
Like many people, despite my fears, the water fascinates me. Especially the ocean! This massive life force, ebbing and flowing, dazzling in the sunlight, powerfully alluring in a storm, has the unique ability to reach into the human soul connecting us somehow with the entirety of the universe. On an occasional family holiday to the beach as a child I would delight for hours walking along the shore collecting shells, building castles in the sand, and wading in the water up to my knees, or even my thighs, if I were feeling particularly brave. Sometimes I even held onto a boogie board to catch a ride. I loved the salty air and sun-bleached hair and the thrilling freedom of play! However, I would always notice those surfers out the back and how fun it looked to rip along a wave on one of those boards. To me, that was the epitome of brave……or stupidity. I’m still undecided. But the truth is,
I envied them.
I wanted to let go of my fears and join with them, but I couldn’t seem to ever cross that line. I would console myself with thoughts of, I’m sure if I lived by the ocean I would at least try, or I’m just not a water person so that’s not for me, or my brain just isn’t wired to try crazy things so I could never do that, or I think I need to be really athletic to pull that one off and music is more of my thing.
The funny thing is all those lies I was telling myself were actually true. Why? Because I believed them. The end.
Okay, clearly that isn’t the end of this story, but for decades that’s how it concluded until I decided I was tired of that ending. I wanted a better one.
When we decided to move our family to New Zealand for a year to experience a different way of life on this gorgeous planet, we chose to move to Gisborne. It’s a coastal town on the North Island which happens to be an ideal spot for surfing, and is impressively one of the best kept surf secrets on this earth! Because it’s challenging to get here, it’s location naturally helps to keep the surf breaks free from intimidating lineups. As an insecure woman flailing around in the water with her board, this is something I highly appreciate because the fewer that actually see me, the better. There’s waves for beginners and professionals, the beaches are world class beautiful, and they’re practically private! Naturally, or rather, unnaturally, our entire family decided to learn how to surf. This was it. This was our moment. My moment.
Upon arriving in Gisborne, my husband Matt, easily the most excitable person I know, visits a surf shop in town and buys a couple of boards. We don’t even have our bank account here setup yet, but we’ve got boards and wetsuits! (The water here is freezing). I’m glad we have our priorities straight. He learns from locals where the best beginning surf spots are and before fully recovering from jet lag, Matt has managed to get us all zipped up in rubber and out to the water’s edge. We’ve watched multiple surf instructive videos on YouTube, so we’re pretty confident we can just give it go. (Cough…ahem…yeah).
Yay!!! I’m so excited!!!
I’m not at all excited. I’m in a tensely composed state of panic.
We don’t have enough boards for everyone, so I volunteer to just watch. I’m generous like that. Our daughter Annie, 11 at the time, decides she’s going to be a surf queen, so she and Matt go out together. She lays on the board and after the waves have crashed, Matt pushes her into the foamy whiteness, time and time again, as she works to get to her feet. Eventually we’ll get to the green waves, but for now, we stick to the white water. I nervously watch, amazed by her willingness to keep tumbling and trying, and tumbling and trying, over and over with relentless determination. I notice she isn’t held captive by my fear and for the first time I consider that maybe I can rid myself of it, too.
But how do I do that? What is it exactly that I’m so afraid of, yet an 11 year old is seemingly unbothered by?
I’m afraid of staying under the water. Wow! Is that really all it is? No, but it’s a big part of it, so I start watching more closely. When my daughter falls off the board I begin counting how long she remains beneath the wave. I don’t believe I ever counted past three seconds. THREE seconds?! I’m afraid of three damn seconds?! Wow. Don’t I feel lame.
I start deconstructing my fears this way, and for the first time, I find that I honestly believe I can do this. I schedule lessons with a fabulous surf instructor, as it became evident right away that we would need quite a lot of guidance, and soon afterwards we were gliding along the small green waves of Gizzy.
None of us are good at it. In fact, we’re downright bad at it, but we do it. We surf! I feel so liberated and amazed every time I say that, and even more so each time I rise with a wave and find my feet beneath me on my board. I still have moments when the water feels too much for me and I have to take a break just sitting on the sand, feeling overwhelmed. Somedays the ankle biters feel more akin to jaws, chomping me whole, swallowing and then spitting me out. The water feels massive, so I take my exit and turn to gaze at what I feel to be growing sets of waves. I notice the size of the water hasn’t changed, but I sit and rest anyway. I allow myself to feel defeat because I know I’ll soon go back in the water. I can’t own my triumph until I own my fear, and so I do it. I allow my heart to hold onto it because this is what I’ve learned;
When I own my fear I get to decide what to do with it.
I have decided to surf!
~Nikki
7 Little Humans 