As a child, I always loved summers when my parents brought us to the beach in San Fabian. We would spend the day under the sun playing in the sand and sitting on those makeshift floaters made from car tire’s inner tubes. As a teenager, however, I was rarely allowed to go anywhere near the sea with friends because my mother had a great fear of me drowning. Whenever I do find myself at the beach, I’d only let myself take a dip when the sun gets too hot. I’d never swim out since I myself lacked confidence in my own swimming skills — but all this was changed when I got stoked on my first wave.  ;)

I am not proud of it but I had to lie to my parents (even as an adult) about going to the beach and to trying out surfing. I only outed myself when I brought home my first surfboard, not because there was no way for me to hide it, but because I was tired of suppressing my love for this new adventure.  Even though my fear of the sea still remained, I kept coming back for more, fully trusting my instructor and my leash.

As I progressed in surfing, my guide started bringing his own board and I started getting my own waves. My monthly trips became weekly. I started craving for bigger and faster waves. Wipeouts became harder and longer. Boards became shorter, thinner and pointier.  After getting regularly beaten up by waves (and by my board) and after a few injuries (one that took a few years to heal), I somehow still felt at home in the lineup.

Perhaps I discovered for myself what Ackerman meant when she said “we carry the ocean within us, our veins mirror the tides.” Our blood consisting mostly of salt water. Our eyes and sinuses are always washed with saline solutions. Even how I live my weekly life of getting pulled in and away from the beach is just like water rolling in and out on the shore. Don’t you feel the same way too?