Do you have any idea how many times you duck-dive during a single surf session? Ten, twenty, a hundred? Depends a lot on wave size, shape, conditions – but who counts? Counting the number of times you duck-dive would be like counting the steps it takes to walk from the green to the next tee box or pedal strokes on a long bike ride. Whatever the number, it’s higher than your wave count. It’s all “in-between” and “on-the-way” time that gets you to where you want to go. Except that with the duck-dive, I can’t think of another recreational activity with “on-the-way” time that comes close to such grace and beauty.
Yes, a well-timed, perfectly executed duck-dive is an act of grace and beauty. The power of a breaking wave with thousands of miles of ocean travel built up in its collapsing rotation is hurtling towards you in thundering, disorganized turmoil. You’re not yet into the line-up where everything makes sense and waves peel with a recognizable orderliness, you’re on your way there. The dive may be shallow and quick, if it’s a small day, and water dances over your back. If it’s a big day, the threat of thousands of gallons-per-square-inch detonating on your head necessitates a deeper, more prolonged dive with seconds of weightlessness before floating to the surface again. Either way, the act of pushing your board and body to the bottom of a wave’s vortex and using the existing energy to propel you through the chaos and out the back to the calm on the other side is a hydrodynamic magical act. For a moment, there’s no resistance – you’re not a human anymore but a dolphin fully immersed and connected to the ocean’s energy, not fighting against it. It’s poetry. Especially when the wind is off-shore. You’re out the back and beads of water shower you with gentle reminders of the thrashing you just escaped.
I’m surprised there have been so few words written dedicated to this simple, underrated but highly significant aspect of surfing. I guess that’s because the most obvious and compelling aspect of riding waves has to do with what happens on top of the water. What really matters when you surf is how much fun you’re having while actually on a wave, right? But if you consider all the time invested in simply going for a surf, you spend relatively little time actually riding a wave. The majority of time is spent waiting…paddling, duck-diving…then more waiting.
It seems that life is made up mostly of “in-between” and “on-the-way” time. Getting ready in the morning, dressing your kids, helping with homework, coffee with a friend, preparing dinner, and helping your spouse with the dishes are not the things we normally think of as life events. And compared to the big moments, they’re not. But the big events are fewer and shorter. Life is made up of infinite smaller moments punctuated by the occasional larger happening. Think about your daily life and schedule – what do you spend most of your time doing? I’ll bet the majority of minutes you spend everyday are small and commonplace.
Beauty, grace, and sacredness can often be found in unexpected places, abundantly in the small and ordinary if we’re open to seeing them. What we do “on-the-way” and “in-between” matters just as much as what we do when we get there. What if the commonplace, ordinary moments are actually the most sacred? What are the most commonplace activities or interactions in your life? What if you started to view them not as distractions or necessary agitations in order to get where you’re going but as the actual stuff of which life is made? Psychologists and Spiritual Directors talk about awareness, being fully present, not being consumed with what happened in the past or what’s going to happen in the future – open to the energy of the moment rather than fighting against it. Kind of like a duck-dive.
Here are some areas where I’m learning to recognize the sacred in the ordinary:
- Putting on my son’s shoes and socks.
- Household chores.
- Saying “I love you.”
- Walking the dog.
- Changing a diaper.
- Coffee with a friend.
- Doing the dishes.
- Seeing distractions as opportunities.
How can you find the beauty, grace, sacredness, and poetry in the ordinary moments of life?
I’d love to hear what commonplace moments in your life hold beauty and grace…
matt in menlo 
