“Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the Sea, and touch the Sky,
Let your Soul and Spirits Fly,
Into the Mystic”
– Van Morrison
Dawn worship at our ‘Church of the Great Outdoors’, far away from the madding crowds … We kept the numbers down to ensure self-isolation, but this comes naturally when you #surf, anyway. Instead of pews, we had boards lined on the tide, and we gave praise as turquoise walls charged towards the shore, their crashing chorus echoing from high granite cliffs soaring like the ramparts of some godly cathedral.
The ocean is the primordial soup, that supreme source of life, and the original place of baptism since time immemorial. Even now – a multitude of millennia later – you will feel the gut-thump inside you when you paddle into the surging tide … In that moment, you do it to search for inspiration, to drown out the cacophony of man-made noise, to re-connect to the epicentre of your equilibrium, and to ultimately find your inner flow… 🌊 🌊 🌊
Forever enchanting: that is the ocean. And it will always be infinite, vast, endless … Yet, it is simultaneously daunting and gentle, constant and ever-changing, vibrant and tranquil … and if you are a devout disciple, it will constantly beckon you with its siren song. To me, it is the sole sacrament I search for when I need to cleanse mind, body, spirit and soul.
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