Some days just start grey. In fact, some years do too… I woke up one early 2020 morning tired from another night of monkey mind insomnia, a misty Cape sunrise matching my mood. It had been a tough few months. The loss of a much beloved dog, incredible fatigue as 2019 crashed to a close and the sobering realities of a world in the throes of conflict, disease and fire. Every day I found myself sitting behind my computer hoping for motivation and inspiration. This day would be no different.
“It’s dead calm!” Peter calls from our living room window, peering out through the mist at the glassy ocean down below. “No thanks, not today. I’ve got too much to do,” I mutter, making coffee.
Peter stubbornly hands me my wetsuit and starts dragging our stand up paddle boards out of the garage. Okay, sure, it won’t be more than an hour anyway then I can be back at emails and meetings and calls and all the important things.
We launch our boards into the eerie quiet of an ocean muffled by mist and move away from shore. The quiet splash and swish of our paddles is the only sound. Beneath the slate grey of the surface I can see tall kelp fronds reaching for the sun and bright urchins and anemones blink up at me from the reef below. Our beautiful False Bay is a biodiversity hotspot with white sharks, whales, dolphins, seals, penguins and a myriad of smaller creatures calling this home. But the last years a conflict between the visiting orca and resident white shark population (among other factors) has led to a drastic decline in white shark sightings… so we paddle out even further. As the mist gets thicker my spirits start to lift. Blanketed in the calm of ocean below me my breathing deepens and I feel more like myself.