Thoughts on: Ego, Cold Water and Showing Up

Last Saturday, the sun was out and waves were forecast, a nice feeling in a frosty February-in-Cornwall kind of way. Still, at two degrees, it wasn’t exactly inviting. But there was less wind than usual, the sun peeked out for a heartbeat, and for once, the waves weren’t too big. Technically, this was as good as it gets for me on a British winter day.

So it began, the mental battle that I seem to regularly experience around surfing these days. I should go surfing. I checked different webcams back and forth, talked myself into it, talked myself out of it, and started packing my stuff into the car. I stepped outside and remembered how cold it was whilst mulling it over a cup of tea. I told myself I’d drive to the beach and decide once there. 

Upon arriving at the beach, I spent ten minutes staring at the waves, waiting for the perfect one to roll in. The perfect wave never came. I spent a while trying to gauge the size of the surf by comparing it to the walkers on the beach. Hmm, was that one too big? A set rolled in and I watched a few shortboarders take it on the head. Nope, officially not for me today on my longboard.

Then I noticed a pattern: I started feeling annoyed, ruminating…what’s wrong with me, why don’t I feel enthusiastic to go in the sea? My thoughts were quietly turning negative and I could feel the pressure to achieve and to seize the day, building.

Then a friend appeared. As he passed my car on his way to surf, he called out: “What are you up to, staring into the abyss in your car?”

I snapped out of my fog and realised I was still sitting in my car, frozen and lost in my head. I took a breath and checked in, why had I come to the beach? The honest answer wasn’t desire, but habit: it’s good, I surf, so I should.

It’s a mindset I see often in surf culture, overriding the body and heart, not pausing long enough to listen. Ego steps in and says we must paddle out, because without that… who are we?

Maybe it sounds like overthinking. I came to the beach because I thought I should surf, but also because the ocean air brings me joy, the cliffs ground me, and being near the water calms me. Once I dropped the expectation of a “good” surf, it became simple again. I remembered I had free will. I could just slip in for a gentle swim.

So I grabbed a salty swimming costume that permanently lives in my car and made my way down to the water. I found a sunny little corner of flat rock to strip down my layers. Avoiding a few mussels as I hobbled into my swimming costume. As I made my way down to the water’s edge, I felt the faintest hug of warmth from the winter sun on my back. It was delicious. That sensation was short-lived as the water reached out to touch my toes and shocked any ego entirely out of me. All I could focus on was how cold it was - and, somehow, how lovely that feeling was too.

I edged further out until I was just deep enough to take the plunge. I focused on my breath and leaned fully into the sensations moving through my body. It felt bad and it felt good, and it felt wonderful to allow the polarity of those emotions to exist together.

The surf was pumping and I just swam. It felt rebellious. I felt bad, I felt good and that was more than enough.

My takeaway was this: drive to the beach. Surf, or don’t. Swim, or don’t. Maybe I could surf, but I definitely shouldn’t. In those ego-filled moments, I will ask the ego to step aside and let presence lead.