Always Coming Out
It’s a state of mind, a mantra. Simultaneously the goal and the journey. Strapping on my fins I’m always coming out. The storm has raged, sent mountains of water and I am stepping in… always coming out. Stroke for stroke into the wide open blue, take the long swim. This is where the mist keeps. This is where the swell reaches for the deep and we must reach deeper… always coming out.
The peak is swinging wide and each of the boards is beyond a takeoff. This one is mine… always coming out. It moves with speed, great speed. Pulling water from the deep and bursting out when the surface can hold tension no more. The energy is on me now and it pulls first. I could let go and join the rest of the molecules to roll skyward and fold over into the deep, but I have a will and now it pushes.
Some daft combination of skipping and sliding I’m holding a line. The open world starts to pinch… always coming out. From the pocket, the energy is changing now, it moves faster, freighting for the coast. Even the sun scratches at the lip trying to climb through. I could dig in both arms, take a deep breath and watch the tunnel spin away. I could close my eyes, tasting the thick salty air before punching out into placid waters. I could find a way to be safe and clear, but… always coming out.
The moment you give that inch it stretches to a yard. When you forget the words the ride is over and the deed is done. With hay-maker backwash and howling winds, with double-overhead slabs of water and fading light there is only one thing to whisper in the grips of the sea… always coming out.