Control

It’s a strange phenomenon in life that allows us to see things retrospectively as perfect. This may be the rational minds need to understand in order to feel comfortable and justified in it’s present circumstances, but there seems to be a point where a corner is turned, or where, like a switch being flipped, there is light that is shed on a particular moment that gives the us greater, or complete understanding of what happened and not only what happened, but why. When we understand why things happen we learn from them, and thus we are transformed. There is an Ah-Ha moment where we understand it as what needed to happen in order for us to be where we are, and when we are lucky, it can be interpreted as a gift as opposed to a burden.

The workshop I was attending taught of the concept of control in such a way that had me listening. Maybe I was simply ready to hear it. Maybe I was tired of trying to control my life, but I still had to learn a little more about it in my own way. I needed to experience it, or rather my lack of it in a new way, with a new filter and framework of understanding. My paradigm regarding control was shifting. I had never really entertained the idea that we don’t control our lives. I simply thought that when things got out of control it was because I stopped paying attention to details, or didn’t try hard enough. The morning after that first medicine journey I experienced the feeling of not having control in a way I will never forget.

After we awoke and gathered ourselves from the floor of the studio, we walked reverently through the tall trees, across the land and down a rocky trail to rocky beach. I wandered into the ocean with little energy to start, yet I decided to charge forward into the surf. As I swam further and further into the ocean I went on with my belief that I would make it. I had not entered the ocean with any particular intention that I was aware of but soon I was headed towards a large body of rocks that seemed to be calling me. The rock formation lay maybe fifty or seventy yards off shore. It was a group of rocks the size of a small house with a slightly square shape, sloping toward the ocean side.

The formation was quite a ways up the beach from where I got in the water, but something was pushing me to swim there. I had a vague idea in my head of what and where I was going towards, but I had no idea why I was compelled so. As I neared the rocks I noticed the current getting quite a bit stronger. The waves were taller. Bobbing in the swell, my stroke carried me onward. The closer I came to the rocks the more intense the currents became. I wonder now if this was the nature of life being presented to me, as if the objects and goals we strive to obtain are full of and surrounded by stronger than average currents, visible only when seeing the big picture and thus increasing the need to be strong to maneuver amongst the chaos. As I swam closer I began to realize what I was up to. It became clear that I wanted to mount the rock formation. I wanted to climb on top of it and jump back into the ocean.

When I reached the rocks I was swimming towards them from the ocean side of the mass. I had swum out and taken an arching approach. My plan was to swim to them, and get up onto the rocks. It didn’t seem like an outrageous or dangerous idea to me. The idea to actually mount the rocks wasn’t there as I first began to swim toward the rocks. It was lingering in my imagination but not really a goal. The water around the largest section of rock was moving strong and fast, up and down, back and forth. I was going with it, not that I had a choice in the matter. I got close enough to the rocks that I could reach out and touch them. Only then could I see that the water level was rising up and down by five of six feet. It was like being on some kind of mellow roller coaster, and I was about to try and jump into the car behind me. I positioned myself to let the water push me up and on to the rocks. I thought that I would use the natural rhythm of the waves to elevate me. I thought I was going to use nature as my personal levitation device.

The next set of waves came rolling up, pushing me higher and closer, and finally up against the wall of rock. I got my hand on a hold and for a moment I thought I had nailed it first try. I grabbed on the rocks securely and just as I began to pull myself upward, the rocks peeled and I dropped down into the water at the edge of the rock formation. My drop into the water had been further than expected since the swell had gone down, forming a depression in the moment that I had held on to the handhold. I fell five or so feet back down into the water, enough to dunk me. I was not expecting it and I took in a gulp of sea-water. I choked a little and began to gasp slightly for air to breathe. It was only then that I realized I was slightly close to the fire. My mind turned for a moment to the previous nights journey. I thought to myself that I was such a fool for having just received this gift, this amazing breath of life and now I was risking this precious thing by trying to drown myself. I had a quick thought of how I was going to get myself through this. I was going to pull it off by using the next wave and this time I would get it right. I still believed the illusion that I was in control. It may have worked, but I did not see the next wave coming. It must have been much larger than the previous one, because before I new it I was pitched up over the rocks. I was flying in a frothy bath of air and water. I was in the air, turned with my back towards the earth, flying head-first, and I could not see where I was going to land. I was instantly called to recognize this fact. What ever sense of control I thought I had and was using to my benefit had been taken away in an instant. I was flying over rocks. I had no choice in how it would play out. I actually had the time to think while being taken through the air that this was nature forcing me to trust and surrender to the moment. It was happening whether I liked it or not and it was happening fast. In this moment of being taken by the wave and thrown over a giant pile of rocks I realized how not in control I was. There was a sense of freedom in that moment of realization. It was easy with this experience to let go into the chaos, for there was no other choice, but in less drastic circumstances, when it is not clear that there's no turning back, when we believe that the next choice might somehow change the previous one, letting go becomes a choice itself, and that is the conscious leap of faith. I realized in that moment that sometimes it is impossible to even feel the current, let alone come to realize that it is dragging you down and tossing you up and challenging your right to exist.

I landed on the other side of the rocks and was not even scratched, let alone seriously injured as I could have been. As I was scrambling to get my bearings, and realizing that I had lost a contact lens through the process, I thanked the universe. I was getting wrecked in the ocean waves, half blind in one eye, gasping for breath and I was far from safe yet, but I managed to squeak in a moment of gratitude for getting me this far through the tumult. As I struggled to capture my breath I was inclined to paddle hard and try to swim as fast as I could towards the shore. The waves on this side of the rocks where noticeably bigger with a more severe beach break, and I was beginning to reach my limit of endurance. I realized this as I began to feel the onset of panic. I was having problems with depth perception because I had only one contact lens and I wasn’t sure how to manage the water that I was in. I thought about it for a split second and decided that I was not going to swim hard and that I would breaststroke in swimming for shore. I began to feel the strength of the waves pulling me further from my destination. I began to be able to sense when the pull would transform itself into a push and I began to feel the larger current at work. When the push would come, I swam hard using a front crawl style overhand stroke. When the pull took me back out a little, I relaxed and went with it, and I trusted that this would get me there eventually.

This last part of my swim was difficult and a bit frightening. I completely over exerted myself. I had hardly slept and barely eaten for 24 hours, yet I made it through the surf and onto the beach. I planted myself on the burning hot rocks that covered the beach and I cried. I was bleeding from my finger, I was naked and I was thankful to be alive. The most remarkable thing was that my breathing was fine. I was exhausted and panting, but my breath was there, and it was mine to own, and use. I laid in the sun thinking about this for quite some time and eventually began the walk back up to the farm. As I walked up the path I had to focus intently as I put one foot in front of the other. My being was low, low energy. As I forced myself to walk I realized that I have a tendency to not wholly believe things that are told to me by others until I feel it for myself, as if I need the actual physical experience to translate and learn the lessons being presented.

In that moment walking up the hill, I wondered for the first time about why we come to earth to incarnate as human beings.