"Surf or die."

I used to hear that sometimes among surfers, one of those jokes that carries some truth with it. While on the one hand an affirmation of one's love for surfing, on another level it is exactly the proposition one faces when "in" the surf. Even a small wave is able to thrash a body as easily as you might a rag doll. A large wave pounds you, tumbles you, dashes you against the coral bottom, holds you under, and before you can recover from the devastation, the next one has you in it's frothy fist. Surf of die.

Right away you get the idea that the force of the wave demands that you align yourself with it. No resistance can prevail against the wave. But you can meet it, receive it, fit yourself to it, and eventually, ride it in an expression of balance and beauty and harmony that can take your breath away.

The first time I ever rode inside the curl of a wave, in control of my speed on the face of the wave, moving up and down its slope, an extended moment of perfection to be sure, I became struck by the indifference of the wave and my utter insignificance to its inexorable journey to the beach. The wave is going to the beach, with or without me, and with not one drop of water more or less depending on my "ride" or my anihilation.

At the end of a day of surfing, there is no evidence of it having ever happened. No trail. But you are changed by it. Deepened. You have aligned yourself to meet, receive, and transform an encounter with a devastating force into an expression of balance and beauty.

Sadly, or at least ironically, this epiphany preceeded my breakdown by only weeks, but endures as one of my most instructive metaphors for dealing with bipolar.

My cycles are the waves. I am in the surf. I must surf or die.

Like many of you, the first wave nearly killed me. And before I could quite catch my breath, the next one was upon me. But just like someone finding themselves in heavy surf, I begin to see what it means to align myself with these waves.

My guess is that we all develop an alignment sense with our cycles. Even unconciously, we must be doing it, or else we are so much flotsam in the bipolar tide. What are some of the things you do to ride these waves?