My Hope, and My Desire

 I surfed the California beaches for many years, both as a teenager, and later in my adult life.  I've found few experiences to rival those early morning plunges into the cold Pacific Ocean.  Feeling naked, sensing every pore in my body suddenly explode, the frigid water and brisk dawn air conspiring to awaken my soul.  The expectation of the adventure, paddling out through the waves as they crashed over me in a vain attempt to hinder my progress, to turn me back, to deprive me of the pleasure of that first ride.  Challenges (obstacles) barely noticed for the focus of the reward.  Meeting the challenge becoming even it's own reward.  There are no words to describe the ride.  The more I could abandon myself to the rhythm of the wave, it's subtle changes in personality, it's requirement for immediate response, the deeper I became immersed in it's primitive, but natural intent.  The more integrated I would become with the water, the clearer would become my understanding of it’s inherent freedom.  Over time I learned to heed the casual beckoning of the waves in their attempt to guide me gracefully, and safely, through the ride.  Sometimes the wave would hurt me.  But more often than not we'd end up shaking hands.

            The optimistic energy in my life has been this same experience.  The cold air, and water, being the awakening from dormancy; the paddling out being the process of getting my consciousness, and will, directed through the obstacles, taking up the challenge; the ride being the freedom, and joy, inherent in the extraordinary expression of it's boundlessness.  The simple act of abandoning myself to the mystery of the unknown, the unforeseen, stripping naked before myself, and for myself, jumping gracefully from the bridge of possibility. 
To live in this place, to truly live in this place,
is my hope,

and my desire.