The fire came sweeping through and consumed what it wanted to take leaving charred remains behind like afterthoughts. She stood strong, keeping it at bay and joining forces with her sisters. They’ve fought fires before, many times. They know the method of its warfare and how best to win the battle. They only gain strength from its indulgence, laughing in its face with ferocity. This is how they gain life, how they breed and how they multiply their force on the earth.
My friend Mindy was working for AmeriCorp in Santa Cruz when the fires hit and burned down their housing. Her contract was put on hold so a result, she found herself a free agent of the road out west like me. We had plans to catch up when I came through Santa Cruz, but neither of us expected the turn of events that would unfold. We have been traveling together, hitting surf spots, visiting friends and making new ones for two months now. It has been great to have a partner in crime and has drastically taken the solitude of my first solo 6 months on the road to a new level of love and community.
Yesterday was an emotional day. Mindy, Grace and I drove to Boulder Creek to see where Mindy lived before the fires came. As we drove the winding road up into the forest, away from the ocean, music playing forebodingly on the radio like a measure of what was to come, the tears began to dance on Mindys eyelids. I offered to drive, but she wanted to steer the ship. A force driving herself to reflect on what was her past and haunting her present.
I have been amid the aftermath of natural disasters before. Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods and now fire. Each carries its own weight, its own burden and its own dominance. Hurricanes slowly creep in like a giant stalking its victim consuming whole parts of cities, while fires and tornadoes sweep in unexpectedly snatching up its prey at random and making no sense at all.
As we drove the road in, the remnants of some of the cabins glared at us, ash and debris stuck to their face. A kitchen sink and a furnace the only thing left standing amid a pile of what once held life. Mindy’s cabin was still standing, only a couple hundred yards away. She pulled off to the side of the road and got out of the car. I followed behind with my camera. She pointed to her cabin as the tears began to flow. I hugged her close and then let her process. A massive redwood caught my eye just feet from where we were standing. It was blackened with char on one side almost all the way up, but totally fine on the other side. Wind swept fire that decided to stop there.
I have always had a very close relationship with nature. I feel that I understand it in a special and private way. We have our own language and share the same thoughts. I understand that the fragility of her gentleness is as present as the all powerful bone crushing force that can become the tempest in the time that a flame flickers light across the hearth. So I respect her. When I am in the ocean, I always say a prayer of protection and respect for allowing me to be present with her and to acknowledge what she has to say and show me what she wants me to feel. Dance the oceans waves, but remember her grace is as powerful in its force as it is gentle.
I have been learning to surf for a few years. There have been stints where I didn’t go out for months to going out every day like a junkie wanting a fix. Dancing the waves is a breathtaking and freeing movement. Becoming one with something that is so much bigger than yourself, but also a part of you at the same time. I am in awe that our bodies can move through the water as if it doesn’t exist and then in the same fell swoop it is possible to drown and be crushed by the sheer force that this translucent presence can bring.
I was in Maui a year ago this month and went out to surf a break. I paddled out and found my spot to sit and wait. A few waves came and they were considerably big, though small by Maui standards. At one point I missed the mark and got pinned under a wave. It pushed me down and I felt its force like a wrestler holding down its opponent. I remained calm and felt myself bob up towards the surface only to be pushed right back down by another wave. It was disorienting and it was in that moment that I remembered the grace by which nature allows us to live. There was a moment where I thought, “This could be it” and I remembered how quick death can come. I was strangely ok with it, should this be my time. As the pressure of the wave flashed a million thoughts in front of me, I felt a peaceful knowing that if this was it, I would be going home. I said a prayer of acknowledgement and the wave released me from its grasp. All of this in a matter of seconds, but it felt like minutes, reminding me once again of our dance. I got back on my board, paddled to shore and got to my car. I wasn’t shaken or upset, I was nothing more than quiet, contemplative and in awe.
Having had a near death experience as a teenager, my relationship with death is a unique and intimate one. I have tried to live my life since my accident to the fullest. Believing and knowing how valuable time is. Knowing is one thing, understanding it and having stood on the literal edge of breath is another. By all accounts I should have died at 17 years old when I plummeted 40 feet from a rope swing into a gully onto the hard ground. Its a miracle I didn’t die and also a miracle that the injuries I sustained were minimal. A shattered spleen, a fractured hand, a minor scrape on my forehead that landed a short distance from a several foot spiked root…
I spent a week in the hospital with major bruising, internal bleeding and a splenectomy to remove the three pieces that my spleen had become. Following my release from the hospital I went through a major bout of depression. Grappling with the finality and suddenness of death, the end of our time, the last breath we take…standing on the edge of that cliff time and time again in my dreams. But there was something else… There was an indescribable experience that has sat with me my entire life since. A presence and a knowing that I will never be able to put into words. A presence I reach for always…if I could close my eyes and hold your hand like in some movie, to show you and make you feel it, I would. But I continue to replay it two decades later, still trying to understand it myself. Longing to feel it again, the presence, the light, the boundless love, the message…
I came out of that experience with something I would always carry with me. We all know that life is temporary. We casually and monotonously throw out the phrases to not take time for granted, tomorrow is not a guarantee, etc. It’s one thing to know this and another entirely to feel it in your heart and stand on the edge of your last breath.
Since my accident, My relationship with death is not one of fear, but of respect. I am not afraid to die, I am afraid that I will not fully live. I am afraid that I will not execute every gift of breath that I am given to its fullest potential. I am afraid I will not lend a hand, I will not change the world, I will not believe in myself enough for everything that I have been given. I am afraid to waste time by not believing in it. I am afraid that I will not complete the task that I feel I have been given, but perhaps still do not know. I am afraid I will not fulfill my contract on this earth. I am not afraid to go home. I am not afraid of the light that I have seen. The place I know we go, that surrounds us at every moment.
We may not be able to see through the veil, but it is always there. Right under our nose. Our ancestors and guides are holding our hand, stroking our hair and whispering in our ear. Quiet yourself and listen to them. I wish that we could change our relationship with death. That instead of fear, we could spend our lives living for it instead of running from it. I wish we could cultivate ourselves and till the soil of our soul in preparation for the beauty that lies ahead of us waiting silently and patiently. We are like long lost children just waiting to be welcomed home.
I have been surfing with my friends the last couple of weeks in Santa Cruz. Both of them are excellent long time surfers. One of them was a professional swimmer for Israel. I love going out with them. They look out for me, we ride the waves together and share in the joy of seeing the moon sparkle on the waves like hundreds of silver fish as the sun sets overhead and our bodies become black silhouettes, sisters of the water.
A swell came through and the waves were large and the tide was very high, called the Kings Tide. I looked at the water and the voice inside told me it wasn’t my day. Instead, I did my yoga practice, read my book and caught up on some writing. The girls went out. A couple of hours later they walked up to the house minus one board. My friend who was the swimmer walked up a little shaken. “Dude,” “I almost drowned.” I looked at her in disbelief and began piecing the reality of what she was saying together. She had finished her session and paddled to the exit. When the tide is high where we have been surfing, the waves crash on the rocks of the cliff so you have to time your exit just right, waiting for the wave set to finish so you can paddle in calmer water to the shore where a set of stairs goes up the cliff.
There was another surfer in front of her who I can only imagine was perhaps a little bewildered. He waited too long to exit while my friend was waiting and before she knew it, waves were coming at her from two directions in a new set. She was stuck and ducked the wave throwing her board away from her face to avoid getting hit. A technique that usually works except her leash snapped off and she found herself getting sucked into a tidal pool without her flotation device. She quickly realized the danger she was in and began screaming for help.
A man saw her from shore, grabbed another surfers board and jumped in the water to save her. Her board found itself projected over a mile away. When he got her safely to shore, he called some people he knew with a boat at the harbor and they went after her board. As she went over the details with me, I was amazed at her steadiness of mind although I knew she was shaken. This story is not to scare anyone from the dangers of surfing, but to help us realize the power of Mother Nature. The decision no matter how good you are is not always ours. Whether you get on a surfboard, live through a fire, a tornado, a hurricane or your own body lets you down with disease, we are always at the mercy of times uncertainty.
My friend went back out that afternoon for a sunset session and I was quietly so full of admiration for her. She understands it for what it is and wouldn’t allow it to knock her down or dissuade her from living her life. It always baffles me when elders make remarks to younger people about their impending death coming as if death eludes the young. No one is free from her grasp. No gender, age, ethnicity or construct is beyond it. It comes when it wants at any given moment and when we are often not ready. I want to live my life ready. I wa
nt to live fully and in preparation for my departure.
I guess this has a lot to do with how I live now. The reason I took surf lessons in my thirties, bought a skateboard recently and am picking up a drum that is being made for me next week. It’s why I got in a great white tank in South Africa, trekked to see the gorillas in Rwanda, traveled to Madagascar, studied yoga in India and have been on a volcano journey this year. I believe in adventure. I want to see everything she has. The planet is calling us.
I believe in chasing waves. I live to go after what inspires me. We should run after the things that make us tick, not put off what we want because we think we can’t have it. We are our biggest advocate and our own jury. We referee ourselves before we even consider that we could be completely capable of creating something or doing something outside of our comfort level. We sell ourselves short instead of making lists of what we want and going after them. How do we know what we are capable of if we never even try? The journey of trying is half the adventure, the magic. What makes us think we are not worthy enough of going after something? Why do we think that with age we should stop trying new things? The more time I am given here, the more I want to do, the more complex I want to become. I want to keep growing and seeing and I want all of those around me to believe they can too.
