A life lesson about "faith" I've learned on Maui, bodyboarding

Whenever I go to Maui, I learn something. Not from a book, holy or otherwise. Not from a person, revered or otherwise. 

From experience. The best teacher.

Usually from one of my favorite experiences, bodyboarding, which I'm only able to do in warm wavy water, something Hawaii has in abundance (in my home state, Oregon, we've got great ocean waves, but, damn, they're cold.)

Bloggings about some of the past life lessons I've learned on Maui can be perused here, here, and here. What follows are insights gained on my most recent Maui visit.

After some middling-good wave days, OK but not Wow'ish, the ocean swells on Napili Bay became the way I like them: big, and breaking nicely over reef rocks midway in the bay.

By 8 am my bodyboarding-crazed brain had spurred me to paddle out, the only person sane or crazy enough to be in the water at that time. I caught a nice wave right away. And proceeded to ride wave after wave after wave, until my 64 year old body said "enough, dude."

It was a peak experience. Catching large waves makes me feel absolutely great. No matter what happens after bodyboarding (a.k.a. boogieboarding), after just one ride on a big breaking wave I know this has been a well-lived day.

Returning to our condo, I rested. I picked up a book I'd been reading, Galen Guengerich's God Revised: How Religion Must Evolve in a Scientific Age.

Some of what he wrote helped me understand conceptually what experientially I know every time I catch a breaking wave. Here Guengerich is speaking of a form of "faith" that is much different from blind belief in religious dogma.

But if our faith is not acceptance of supernatural revelation, what is it? Let me be candid. Faith is something no one fully understands. It peers into the realm of mystery and transcendence, of meaning and purpose, of value and satisfaction. 

In the modern world, people of enlightened faith live on the boundary between things we know for certain and things we can never fully comprehend. 

...Faith requires a leap of the moral imagination to connect the world as it is to the world as it might become... Faith looks at what is and imagines what might be.

I didn't agree with everything Gunegerich wrote in his "Keeping the Faith" chapter. But these words rang true to me.

There's a moment in bodyboarding, as in surfing (I've never surfed, but I've caught a lot of waves, just as surfers do) when you're on the edge. You don't know. You're not sure. You're in the realm of maybe. 

Maybe I'm going to catch this wave. Maybe I'm not.

Sometimes I'm almost certain that I will; sometimes I'm almost certain that I won't. Those varieties of certainty become more accurate with experience -- knowing that when a wave like this, is acting like that, and I'm positioned here, such-and-such will happen. Still, there's always that maybe.

A big part of what makes bodyboarding so satisfying and fun is maybe. Uncertainty.

Even when I'm caught in the curl of a wave, feeling "this is going to be a good ride," surprises can happen. Waves can act in mysterious ways. I've been dumped upside down so quickly it made my head spin (literally). And I've had a wave pass me by that I figured I was almost sure to catch.

When life is certain, it lacks meaning. For me, at least. I'm always just talking about me, when I'm speaking about meaning. There's no meaning without a me. And for me, I'm the only meaning-making me I know directly.

Your experience of life may be different. However, I suspect that if you reflect on the happiest, most satisfying moments you experience, they will include a big dose of "maybe." 

Certainties feel mechanical. Gears revolving, producing an expected outcome. Click, click, click. Certainties aren't human. They aren't natural. The laws of nature, though orderly, usually don't produce completely calculable life experiences. 

Fortunately. 

If I knew exactly what was going to happen every time I see a large wave approaching and I position myself to catch it, bodyboarding wouldn't be nearly as much fun. The joy I feel doing it is much enhanced by living on that mysterious boundary Guengerich speaks of.

The boundary between what is, and what will be. Which also is the boundary between what was, and what is.

We are part of something much bigger than ourselves. I prefer to call it "cosmos" rather than "God." But, hey, words can't encompass it; knowledge can't explain it; expectations can't predict it. When the part of the cosmos that is me is engaged with the part that is ocean waves, I feel these things acutely.

I don't know. I'm clueless. Mystery always looms over, under, in front, and back of me. 

Whether out in the ocean or inside my brain, I can't predict with total accuracy what will happen next. This is what "faith" really is: being OK with that. It isn't being certain. About God, life after death, salvation, or anything else.

It's waiting for the next wave of life to arrive (yeah, they do keep on coming; no stopping them) with open arms, mind, and heart. Not understanding. Not knowing. Not being sure. Just feeling, "I am you, and you are me, and we are all together." 

(So sang someones famously, sort of.)

Comments

[david lane]

spoken like a true surfer!!!

[tucson]

Blogger wrote: "If I knew exactly what was going to happen every time I see a large wave approaching and I position myself to catch it, bodyboarding wouldn't be nearly as much fun."

Of course I never knew exactly how a wave was going to break or how I would react to it successfully or unsuccessfully, but I had ridden so many waves that there wasn't much the ocean could throw at me that I hadn't seen before. I actually enjoyed surfing the most when I knew what was going to happen.

With this experience, this "foreknowledge", I had the ability to react to the myriad of circumstances, the uncertainty, with greater freedom, creativity and enjoyment.

I got to the point where surfing became unconscious, that is, I had no personal thoughts of what would happen next. There was no obstacle of "me" to overcome, no technique to be mindful of. There was just the wave and the riding of it and no one was there. It was beautiful.

There was the exception of the Tijuana Sloughs, a surf spot near the Mexican border. It was ominous, weird and foreboding. Waves came out of nowhere from different directions with no discernible pattern. You were far from shore and often couldn't see it. The sky could be gray and visibility fog-shrouded. It could be cold and the water polluted from the influx of the filthy Tijuana river which carried sewage from Mexico. The place was like haunted or something and when the waves were big it was just plain freaky, at least for little ol' me.

This was in the days before tow-in surfing onto 80 ft. waves. For me, a big wave was anything taller than I was and I never rode a wave bigger than 15 ft. or so in 25-30 years of surfing. Had I been suddenly cast into an 80 ft. wave situation, no doubt I would have been scared shitless and the freedom described above would not apply. Ego would be fully present in all its problematic glory, at least until I had done it a hundred times or so.

[Tom]

Yes, I can see how that works, and I can see how you're extending it out to the way you approach life as a whole.

That's the kind of faith I aim for too. It's something that allows me to *be*, if not always on the crest of a wave at least calm and positive, despite all the possible upsets and vagaries of life.

By 'aim for', I mean I have to recognise it's not always present. I've found it's related to being awake and alert. So sometimes I need to wake myself up!

So nice post - and no mention of "it's just something the brain does"! ;-)

[cc]

"I can't predict with total accuracy what will happen next. This is what "faith" really is: being OK with that."

You can "predict with total accuracy" that you will cease to exist, and that's "okay" until death feels imminent.

[cc]

"So nice post - and no mention of "it's just something the brain does"! ;-)"

Tom, you are just something the brain does.

[Tom]

You can "predict with total accuracy" that you will cease to exist, and that's "okay" until death feels imminent.

Is your deepest identity with the things that happen, or with your 'OK-ness' with whatever happens? Which means, do you identify with concerns, or with your lack of concern?

It's been said that a wise person identifies with absences rather than presences.

Can an absence die?

Tom, you are just something the brain does.

cc, I predicted that comment and I'm OK with it :-)

[cc]

"Is your deepest identity with the things that happen, or with your 'OK-ness' with whatever happens?"

If I'm imperturbable it doesn't matter what happens, but if I identify with imperturbability, I'm successfully self-deluded.

"Which means, do you identify with concerns, or with your lack of concern?"

Which means I may be concerned with being unconcerned.

"It's been said that a wise person identifies with absences rather than presences"

I'm not so sure it's wise to identify with anything, but if it's unavoidable, it's wise to be adaptable and improvisational.

[Tom]

If I'm imperturbable it doesn't matter what happens, but if I identify with imperturbability, I'm successfully self-deluded.

Sure, that too.

Which means I may be concerned with being unconcerned.

Absolutely.

Words, eh? Extracting meaning from them often requires a bit of guesswork, teamed with constructive dialogue. The lesson I'm learning here is to be more charitable in my guessing, and not to assume I'm the only one with real understanding.

Am I warm?

[cc]

When I'm not sure what you're saying I ask for clarification, and when I misunderstand what you've clearly stated, I stand corrected. But if I have to guess at what you're saying, I'll tell you I'm guessing.

[Roger]

"real understanding"

---real and unreal understanding is still going to be relative. I'm guessing.....

[Tom]

When I'm not sure what you're saying I ask for clarification, and when I misunderstand what you've clearly stated, I stand corrected. But if I have to guess at what you're saying, I'll tell you I'm guessing.

In that case you're completely off the hook, aren't you?!

In my own case though, I've become aware I sometimes believe I'm understanding when actually what's happening is that my preconceptions have been triggered. I think I can be a complete PITA when that happens! ;-)

[Tom]

---real and unreal understanding is still going to be relative. I'm guessing.....

Erm.

By 'real understanding' I'm pointing to the absence of anything obviously delusional. Of course that would be relative to my own delusions ;-)

[Roger]

Tom,

Good point. An 'understanding' is going to require the use of the mind or brain activity. It can be real and relative, and still be something good. Nothing wrong with your own delusions.