I throw myself into the Pacific Ocean waves. I decide quite consciously that this is the only force of nature that is strong enough right now to absorb my rage. Like a fool I take on the surf, believing initially I have a fighting chance. My body is tense and stiff. My breathing shallow. I wade in knowing full well the power of the water will take me and break the tumescence.

That is what I provoke it to do.

A wave rises. I stumble. My legs clumsy to find their balance. Control. Control. I have fucking control.

Another wave rises and I am knocked about a bit more. The ocean takes the weight and responsibility off my legs and I float gracelessly on my belly in the sand.

I get up. Pull the swimming costume out of my ass. Go back for more.

Punish me!

Make me realise my insignificance. I bob up and down cleverly on the unbroken surf.
Ha! I can do this!

I am stronger than the ocean.

A wave rises, gathers height and momentum. My body feels awkard. There is not enough marine time for me to prepare.

The wave is upon me. Crash! My body breaks under the weight of the force of the water and I am rendered powerless and the ocean wave takes me under, takes me with and then….

There is a rushing, crashing silence.

And surrender happens in the flailing of my body and the inhaling of salt water on the white curly waves.

And that feels like we both got something valuable.

Something priceless.

Something worthy.


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