on mighty Baruna

There is a short ritual that I perform; it's become a habit, something of a norm. I have now repeated it for many years through times that were happy and times that saw tears. When reaching a body of vast salt water I stop what I'm doing, say, “Hello, Father,” then walk to the sea just about far enough that one of my toes gets a taste of the stuff. I try to imagine I'm meeting my dad, and calm myself – feeling not happy or sad – then exchange of water by spitting mine out and taking a bit of sea into my mouth. I swallow it, tasting its salinity, then bow to the brutal but beautiful sea, say, “Thank you, Father,” and go strap on my board, then charge boldly in – always headlong, forward. It was not until I arrived in Bali that I understood to just which deity I'd been so long praying and thanking; soon a friend cued me it to majestic Baruna. He rules o'er the land of the aquatic forces, o'er turtles and surfers, seaweed and seahorses; his gaze never falters; he hears everything; will take a lost child under his sea-wing; will strike now with vengeance, now with perfect calm; does hold every seaman tightly in his palm. To thank great Baruna I find is a must, in him I place volumes and volumes of trust, please join in the habit written of right here and let go of torment and worry and fear.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

whence others flock

A new set is coming straight into our teeth, we're ready and waiting with our boards unsheathed. The riptide is dragging us all toward the rocks, where one person ventures the others soon flock. The setting sun dazzles and shines in our eyes while not far above us a white drone now flies. I give it the finger as it passes by, a white mote bobbing against a clear blue sky, then turn on my axis to look at the waves, afloat in these majestic briny enclaves. The first peak we just watch, to study its shape, then off to the breaking point frantically scrape, our arms do the digging our legs merely rest while sticky wax irritates stomach and chest. The first guy he scrambles but is far too slow, then sits there the noobie disrupting our flow, whereupon we others venture farther out to improve our chances and display our clout. I'm in the position to ride this one in, with a few arm movements complete a half spin, then push up and plant my feet onto the deck, for obstacles I with an eagle-eye check, then turn at the bottom and back up the face, continuing onward at a dashing pace. Near two hundred meters the wave lets me ride as within my bosoms there wells up much pride, I dismount amidst a vast school of beginners, regardless of skill-set we all end up winners. Baruna is calling, ocean deity, he delights in fortitude and gaiety, so shine up your board-lines and come to the shore, adventure is waiting not far from your door.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥