You Can't Conquer The Ocean

photo credit // Groundswell Community Project

I think it was my fifth surf therapy session with Groundswell Community Project. I was paired up with a volunteer, a surf sister, Rebecca, who I hadn't met before, so I was introducing myself. I was giving her my elevator pitch, a quick synopsis of why I had joined their summer program. 

"Yeah, so I just learned how to swim a couple of years ago and this," I said, sweeping my hand to indicate the ocean on the horizon, "...is the next thing to conquer." 

We didn't have much time. Rebecca was listening, but at that particular moment she was mostly looking for the best place to help me get in the ocean as quickly as possible, trying to make sure I got on a wave or two on a particularly choppy day. Which is why I doubt she noticed when my own words stopped me in my tracks.

"Conquer" the ocean. Like it was just another achievement waiting to be checked off. Like it was something almost mechanical, merely requiring strategy, calculations and persistence.

Like it was even remotely possible. 

This sudden awareness of how I was describing the ocean was the seed of only one of the many salt water-soaked lessons that I learned with Groundswell Community Project this summer. I am profoundly and deeply changed after spending 8 weeks with their wonderful volunteers and their incredible force of a founder, Natalie Small. And of course, with Mother Ocean.

Only now, after reflecting on my experience for the past month to try and make sure I accurately articulate how it's changed me, have I felt able to share. 

Snorkeling the Silfra Fissure

If there is one thing I can confidently say that I thought I would never do, not in a million lifetimes, snorkeling in water that is just barely above freezing temperatures would be that thing.

Granted, two years ago I never thought I would go snorkeling at all on account of the fact that I couldn't swim, but even that wouldn't have mattered in Iceland's 35°F waters where special dry suits keep you impossibly buoyant. 

Still, swimming capabilities or not, who voluntarily jumps into water that cold... in the middle of winter? 

Crazy people, that's who. And, well, me. Because when you have the opportunity to snorkel in the fissure between two tectonic plates, in some of the clearest water in the world, you take it. 

Sayulita Mermaid Yogis Retreat: Part I

This past November, I did something crazy.

That's how it felt at the time: crazy. Crazy to go on a yoga retreat when I wasn't that great at yoga. Crazy to spend a week in the jungle with girls I'd never met before. Crazy to spend so much money on a vacation to a place I'd already visited nine months earlier. Crazy to spend that much time away from Ryan and the dogs, crazy to sign up for so many water activities when I had only just learned to swim. Crazy.

But it wasn't crazy. Not even a little bit. In fact, it was one of the smartest, refreshing, and inspiring things I've ever done. And if I could go back to that drunken night in August at the bar with my friend Anjali, and have her encourage me to sign up all over again, I wouldn't change a thing.

I first learned about the trip on a blog written by a girl named Mandy. I'd followed Mandy's blog for years and never met her or taken her yoga classes even though she lived and taught in San Diego. Last summer, I read her post about an upcoming retreat in Sayulita and it sounded amazing: one week of yoga, SUP and surf in Mexico. I thought about it and thought about it and when I finally took the plunge and reserved my spot, I couldn't believe it.

And then, all of a sudden, it was November 8th, and I was about to get on a plane for Mexico.

The Unsinkable Bri

I can't swim. Do you know how long that's been my mantra? 28 years.

I had a couple of really scary experiences with water as a kid and at some point it just became my thing: I couldn't swim. I avoided pool parties as a teenager, terrified of having to explain it or that someone would throw me in the pool trying to be playful. I wore life jackets whenever I was on a boat. I stayed in knee-deep waters when all my friends went rushing into whatever lake or ocean we were playing in.

I couldn't swim and that was OK.

Except that I had always wanted to surf. Like, desperately wanted to. Not to mention... I live in San Diego now.