They seat on the ocean adrift watching the rhythm of the sea. There is a sensor to be opened by the winds, by the currents, by the frequency of the cycle of little waves that grow gradually bigger and smaller again. Patience is demanded, you must find tolerance within your anxiety, you must find peace. They will eventually come if you can handle the wait, there will be one for you - and perhaps there won't, it's still worth the wait. Maybe is in fact the wait what makes surfing so radical, is the wait that builds up the explosion, is the down time that makes it so special when you manage to finally catch and organically find this perfect sync with the natural flow of a wave. You can plan it thoroughly but can't never guess what's to come, you can prepare as much as you want and still be slapped by a very sudden strike of ocean strength as humility pumps right into your chest and fills up your whole body with adrenaline through a wipe out. The ocean smashes you with no sorrow or guilt, just pure power and test. The ocean tests you all the time, not just how much can you take, but also how much you respect it, how much you understand you can't control it. Over all your self-confidence there is nature and that's something you can never compete with.
