Let The Wave Say

"If the surface of the ocean is this time that we’re alive;

Then this rising wave in motion, is this moment that we ride.

If you don’t move when it’s moving, then your life leaves you behind.

If you can’t see what it’s doing; trust the wave more than your mind.

When the wave is all around me, I got no other plans;

I just balance through the changes, and let the wave say who I am.

From a thousand miles of water, from the wind beyond belief

Every wave roars out its power, as it rises on the reef

And the high blue wall can break you; you can never fight the sea…

You just learn to let it take you, to the place you want to be

Now the wave is all around me, I got no other plans;

Keep my balance through the changes, let the wave say who I am."
--David Wilcox

Watching Dave again Saturday night brought back sweet memories of 18 years ago in Dallas, when I first got the nerve to talk, one-on-one with a beautiful brunette with blue eyes who a couple years later would become my wife! He once again gave wonderful comments, poetic lyrics, and amazing guitar riffs to a small audience of faithful followers who needed the advice as much as ever. Going to a David Wilcox concert is cheaper than therapy.

One of America's premiere songwriter/singer/songwriters, the poetry in the song above (featured on his album: Reverie ©2010), “Let the Wave Say,” led-off the concert. As usual, this winsome show included a few oldies I remember from the past shows we’ve been lucky enough to see; nevertheless, Saturday the same quality instrumentation and wisdom shined through to all in the audience, even if it was their first show.

His voice and pace were vibrant, clear, and robust and this new gaggle of tunes just as appealing as others from the 1990s we know and love. Sharing the journey with his fans, never too proud to admit he doesn’t have it all figured out, Dave muses on things changing in his life, helping sort out the confusing parts from the ridiculous. The self-parody, “Capt.Wanker” was a delightful admission that Super Dave is just a human like we are. No one likes to give money to a “perfect” person or cause; even a young Adele resonates with all ditched lovers, and David Wilcox has grown up with these groupies; indeed 80% of the enthusiasts at the concert this weekend were the over-40 crowd. David Wilcox is a sober, simpler, erudite version of the post-James Taylor singer-songwriter era.

In this song, “Let the Wave Say,” the words spoke to me in a special way as I try to grapple with the rising tide of change. Our 5 world oceans cover 139.5 million square miles of the world's surface area of 197 million square miles; and excluding insects, 4 fifths (80%) of all species live in the oceans. Even though I am a land-lubber, the metaphor of the ocean is powerful; and if you have ever been crushed under a salty wave it is humbling. One cannot fight the sea. It is one of the reasons I love the novel: Life of Pi, by Yann Martel (Random House/Canada 2001).

As I tweeted last week (Twitter@markpills), art is the free-flow of creativity from deep within; expressing truth often without out words; it can be a song, a painting, sculpture, clay pottery, or photography, just to name some of my favorite. Music says things that other communication does not. Dave's guitar plucks the heart-strings.

Poetry like this resonates over days, crowding-out other thoughts. My mind goes back to the wave today; I don’t see what is going on right now, in fact, I don’t really have a very good plan. The song inspires me to jump on the wave because the worst thing I can do now is let this moment pass me by, missing the opportunity for adventure. The art shows that the song is talking to me directly, in the very first song of the show; so you can imagine that Dave got my attention. Good art is a teacher.

As I focus on the next few months, out into the black unknown; I concentrate on quiet reflection, mindfulness, and waiting on God. Trying hard not to control the wave (I would be foolish to think that), I am learning to let the force of time, future, uncertainty, anxiety, all swirling about me, take me with it, to the place I want to be.

Previously I blogged (Mar. 12, 2012) about underwater panic being deadly to a Scuba diver; however it is also detrimental to a human being caught in a vortex of doubt. All I can do is be obedient, show up, work hard, and keep my balance: in golf the swing is like a metronome; in fishing, you can’t stand-up in the canoe and fall in the water. It's all about balance.

Instead of worrying about what people think about me this time, I am going to let the wave say who I am. Thanks Dave.

©Mark H. Pillsbury

Scuba diving Part 1: Dive Like You Train, Train Like You Dive

Unencumbered, young, daring, athletic, honeymooning, just plain stupid. What adjective do you use to describe a SCUBA diver? [SCUBA is the acronym for Self-contained, underwater, breathing, adventurer!]

90% of earth’s surface is covered with water, but humans were not designed to be aquatic.  Without packaged air living underwater is impossible for over a couple of minutes. Conversely, fish do not live well on dry land. Is this too complicated?

Diver certification is like learning to be an astronaut; strangely, what becomes second-nature your body, it is not designed to do. Wearing layers of protective equipment, strapping on a weight belt so you will actually sink, and continuously breathing underwater is a very presumptuous act, but it is as freeing an experience one can feel, an audacious activity completely legal.

Training begins in learning the basic standards of the atmosphere underwater and the proper use of all the equipment. After that, teamwork in a pool separates the swimming-Sams from the panicky-Pauls. Surprises and accidents that happen 100 feet below the surface turn into risky, often dangerous circumstances that must be identified, simulated, and practiced. “Best-practices” replaces thrill-seeking, and timid careful routines are learned and repeated so they become rote.

Exploratory diving’s purpose is to get safely to depth and let the ocean wonders float by, then safely ascending so that the diver lives to tell of the exciting sights he/she witnessed. There are no surprises in the procedures, only in the viewing. SCUBA diving is touring God’s oceans as a visitor, or alien; always looking at the clock to see when you have over-stayed your welcome in the fish’s living room.

Life at these depths requires balance. Buoyancy’s balance is achieved slowly and with proper weighting. Once the diver is comfortably gliding through the water breathing calmly; the weightless flight often transports the inner-consciousness to another universe. The unearthly quiet of a deep dive, peering into the abyss is transformative, but it is not without cost.

Early training must instill this search for inner calm and the quiet peace of marine exploration. Anything that encumbers that mission must be rooted out and conquered or the certification delayed. Diving is a grown-up sport one cannot undertake half-heartedly, or casually. Achieving other-worldly joys, floating through the ocean forests, a qualified diver must be disciplined, teachable, and resilient.

Panic kills. Panic is the enemy. It can cause the delay and mayhem that lead to bold mistakes. Panic takes away the enjoyment of the adventure, replacing it with fear, dread, fatigue, and stress. Obeying the standards of certified diving is like an insurance policy against panic. Dive trainers experiment with everything they know in practice to fluster, frighten, and rattle the diver so that in real time under salt water, an unexpected glitch doesn’t cause the diver to freak out. Pre-planning and training for each dive destination is essential; the buddy-system seeks survival because if one diver goes to pieces, the buddy calms her down and assists in recovery of whatever control was lost (like oxygen).

Fortunate to have the wise old divemaster Bill "Sandy" Hardy train me in 1998, I learned the basics for weeks in a pool before I was allowed to do a check-out dive and apply for SSI® certification. That September, he threw us into the harshest of environments on a cold spring day in dark Lake Whitney, Texas, with no underwater visibility. The conditions starkly contrasted the warm water Caribbean diving which dominates the rest of my log book. I am going to dig that thing out and swim through my underwater experiences over the next few installments, without having to travel anywhere, or make a safety stop. Let’s go diving! (Part I)

writing ©Mark H. Pillsbury
pictures are for personal use

See Part II of the Diving Series:
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