bARTknows

He repeats himself, "If you don't go out there today, I will never take you to another break."

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I stretch my sore back and rub my eyes, the reports can't be accurate. The pre-dawn stillness hangs wet, I half-consciously note the towels on Chris's fence. In the stillness the keys ring quietly in the truck door. The muted pop of the latch announces our departure.

Two boards made of clark foam slathered in 8 ounces of resin and polished to fine matte sheen lay in the back. I'm picking the dry salt from the stringer, thinking anxiously about the Florida scenery around us. Every few minutes, the trademark slush and crumple of hydration, just one thing to take our minds off the surf reports. My 22 year old mind produces a clear feeling: I'm about to witness surf that at this very moment seems unimaginable.

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Months of training don't prepare me for the deep bass of the lip breaking into the reef. I try to paddle out, foam churning, sand moving in all directions, and our mother ocean replies curtly. A coral head cuts sharply into the small of my back. It breaks my will. An obstacle has never seemed more insurmountable.

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"I'm telling you if you don't get your ass out there and try again, I am not... I am not going to go surfing with you any more, even if you drive."

"Ok, ok. You're right."

"Bart... man... whatever you think its going to be like out there, remember, you've trained for this. Come on... 17-22ft on the outer reef... I mean... you'll make it out there, and you'll definitely make it back in!"

Cool perspiration cuts through my sunblock. I shake my triceps. Blood flows into my arms and face. I feel the reality hit me as I step over the top of the boardwalk. No one out. Just Chris. She is there with us. Ready to eat us whole. She tears at us with her laser tongue, twenty two feet thick, she pulls the warm water from the top of the reef, nearly standing still as she throws her hair forward, her eyes disappear behind a thrust of trapped air. I hear her call at me, a deep wretched guttural moan . My right foot stands on the reef. It trembles in her presence. She is ours and nobody's. Even blind confidence is not enough.

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I pull and strain, the fire pulsing through my back. My tendons grind under thousands of tons of water. I'm moving in all directions. My board cuts silently forward. One Wave I do a push-up on my board kicking the tail deep in a duck-dive as the four foot wall of warbling foam passes over me. Grasping its rails, I surface without breaking my determination or cadence. Water is moving in a direction that is actually sucking me under. Two Waves Things are louder now, more powerful. The duck-dives pin me deeper where I can hear her laugh at us. Powerless, she declares.

Each wave is another opportunity to go home. I could get distracted and give up paddling. I don't. I am locked in. The readiness doesn't phase her. She belts out another and another until I've lost count of duck-dives. Just keep bringing it. I'm not sure if I'm talking to her or myself. My sinuses are full of water from diving ceaselessly under 16 foot water walls. Chaos out of order. This is God. Whatever God is, this is the closest I want to be to Her. She must be female. I see the whites of Her eyes. My face: six inches from the surface of Her skin looking up at Her towering teal mountain of mirrored curvaceous beauty. Mesmerized. She spills over Herself in a climactic continuous surge.

This stunning force ends in only a ripple many yards ashore. I look around. Stillness. The angry sun chars my neck and face. I am outside, beyond the break. Chris throws a nod of approval. "Do you feel the rollers passing under us?" I nod back. I wouldn't trade this for anything.

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"Holyyyy..." Chris's voice fades. I'm falling! Slowly at first. My head whips around. Instinctively I paddle toward it. The sun disappears. Its useless to duck dive this monstor. Flipping the board, I swim for the bottom. Ears pop. I see the giant coral heads. I feel the leash tug taught. My face is twelve feet below the surface. The coral slips into Her shadow. The deafening roar deepens. It fills every crevice of inaudibility with a cacophonous rage!

She pushes me another six feet under Her. Walking up the leash as quickly as I can, I find the foam deck submerged. The board and I ascend post haste. A bright Sun meets us with a tremendous gulp of air.

She doesn't waste any time. Another. Has it been fifteen seconds? Turning my back to her, I dig my hand deep into the water and I feel myself sinking. The sun disappears. I float in place, the water rushes under me. She lunges forward. She digs her claws into me. Without a thought in my mind, I rise! I dig my fingernails into the glass resin and struggle to hold on. I'm standing on a two story house made of water moving fast, heaving around me. Her lip gently trembles in slow motion over my head. My eyes trace the rippled path to the vastness of her hollow core. The unmistakable sound of the center of the universe rings out around me. The center of the Universe.

The water sheets off my fins. I maneuver a bottom turn just as she folds her lips over me. I weaken and give in. The day's last great wave delivers a sensual power that I embrace. She reminds me that nothing in life is more brutally beautiful than She. As She carries me back to shore, I realize that She is the metaphor of my Life. Every effort is fruitless without proper position. Execution is not for the fearful. Position is only possible with planning, preparation, some fortune, passion, and love.

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She brings calm. Chris and I barely speak a word during the two hour drive home. Our troubles mute, I say Her name under my breath and start the next chapter of my life in love with Her every move.