queasy country
Writing scares me. a Lot of things do. Big waves, big spiders, new experiences, being cold, falling, getting hurt, being vulnerable in front of people I don't know, etc. And yet here I am, tapping away on my keyboard and trying to ignore the nervous sweat accumulating under my arms as I consider pushing the ‘publish’ button.
similar on the scary scale was an opportunity i was recently offered, which would pack a handful of these fears into one convenient package (fun!), in the form of week-long surf trip to California’s original surf city: Santa Cruz. appropriately, The swell forecast was sizable, with wave heights predicted to reach several feet past my mini-wave-loving comfort zone and well into the ‘no thank you’ range. added elements like cold water, a couple of enthusiastic rainstorms and the potential for many people to watch me be bad at something, sent this scenario quickly past the easy-town city limits in which i comfortably reside and straight toward queasy country at an alarming rate. confusingly and without much thought, I said yes and packed my bags.
as fate would have it, the swell and weather charts were largely correct (eye roll. thanks, surfline) and The wave conditions were well outside not only my personal comfort zone but, at times, even beyond my physical range of ability. Over the course of the seven day surfathon, anxiety, adrenaline, and overwhelm became constant companions and handful of tears and curse words were offered as tribute to the swirling northerly seas.
But the sun also shone, and there were warm and surreal moments laid before me like a movie of my own making. frigid, bleary-eyed mornings melted into freshly-minted days of salty smiles and sore arms. soft rain fell quietly through redwood mountains. i experienced the unexpected joy of being alternately worked and rewarded by waves, both bringing a dizzied smile to my cheeks.
as i continue to type, i’ll admit that i’m still a little sweaty at the thought of sharing this – of sharing any endeavor, really, that i don’t believe I’m ‘good’ at – with the world at large. but the publish button is tempting and the fear of being bad at something publicly becomes more faint with the passing of each paragraph…
* click *