Kayaking

    The sea is a magical place where leviathans and tentacled monsters lurk. Sharks with awful teeth hunt for prey in the murky deep. Pods of dolphin breach the surface of the sea and pterodactyl-like birds with outstretched wings glide over breaking waves.

    The sea is capricious. Gentle winds riffle the surface of the waters when the sea is tranquil, but this same sea smashes steel ships when it is stirred. I am a frail man. The hardest parts of me are shielded in bone. The sea is powerful and great. It cracks  iron hulls and pounds the rocky coasts into shape. What would it do to my bones?  The sea puts man in his place.

    The sea is great and I am humbled by its vastness. It is the tiger I ride on. It has teeth and claws. It kills without remorse. It apologizes to no one; it explains itself to no one, the murderous sea, the snot-green sea.

    I tread the waves like a pilgrim on holy land. Here, I know God is great! Here, I understand the meaning of the verse: “The fear of God is the beginning of all wisdom.” The sea is God’s office. It’s where I go to confer with the Boss. But like the poet Whitman, “I understand God not in the least.”

They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in the great waters; these see the works of the Lord, his wondrous works in the deep. For he commanded and raised the stormy wind, which lifted up the waves of the sea. They mounted up to heaven, then they went down again to the depths; their courage melted away in their calamity; they reeled and staggered like drunkards, and were at their wits’ end. Then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress.

Psalm 107 (23-28)

    I seek out the Great Mystery at sea. God breathes through me. I jettison all that is not me and cast off who I thought I was to become what I am. 

    I am not of the sea, but of the city. Although my city is not far from this watery world, it is a vastly different place.

    No. that isn’t right. I am not of the city, but of the sea. Although I live in the city, I’m from the sea. Our ancestors crawled out of this briny soup and ventured onto land. We had gill slits in our pharynx when we were curled up in our mother’s womb. This points to the marine ancestry of the phylum. The sea worm with tubed feet and I share a remote ancestor. “Our blood is very similar to ocean water,” writes Roberto Malinow, a neuroscientist with the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory. “ It has sodium chloride and magnesium and all those things that are in the ocean. All the cells started as single cells in the ocean, and they were in a solution, which was sea water. In a sense, a lot of the solutions that we make to maintain nerve cells in their happy, alive state are approximating blood, which is approximating sea water. And this all connects us to where we started, in the ocean.”

    Our bodies are mostly water. 80% of the elements in our bodies are found at sea.  Tears trickle down my cheeks and I sweat sea salt. I blink and blink.

    A few times a year, I’ll cross the Santa Barbara Channel and paddle 11-25 miles to any of the islands that lie off shore: Catalina, Anacapa, Santa Cruz, Santa Rosa, San Miguel, Santa Barbara. 

    I’ve spied breaching whales. Breath-taking. I’ve had sharks circle my kayak. Terrifying. I’ve paddled with pods of dolphin swimming alongside. Magical. Litters of seal pups followed me. Adorable. I’ve paddled in the rain. Peaceful. Rough seas. Scary. Heard sea lions bellow from shore. Taiko drums. Oystercatchers with orange beaks and brightly painted feet call as they pass. Western seagulls circle; brown pelicans fly in formation. Everything is in its place.

    When you’re 8 miles out to sea, there aren’t many options. Paddle forward or paddle back, but, whatever you do, keep paddling. Tired? Can’t quit. Pain in your wrist? So what?! Better keep movin’.    

    There’s no surrender in me anyway. I came out swinging. Doc gave mom a pill to have me aborted because she was hemorrhaging. But I fought for admission into this world and won’t leave without a fight. 

    Every thought and stroke and muscle is trained on getting me to the island. Trust God and be patient. Anxiety corrupts. Trust God. Have faith and be patient. I pray ceaselessly. Hannes Lindermann, who had spent 200 days and nights alone at sea, wrote, “I had learned a great deal that could help castaways. I know that the mind succumbs before the body, that although lack of sleep, thirst and hunger weaken the body, it is the undisciplined mind that drives the castaway to panic and heedless action. He must learn command of himself and, of course, of his boat, which is his strongest and most resilient ally. Morale is the single most important factor in survival. Prayer, which brings hope and with hope, optimism and relaxation, is a powerful aid to self-mastery.”

    He called prayer “the invisible weapon of man, which brings him healing power and relaxation and renewed energy. True prayer penetrates the unconscious bringing peace to the individual thereby helping him to overcome disturbing traits in his character.”

    Guard your thoughts well. Think hopefully and positively about everything.