Surfing in January

Some days I wake up before sunrise; lay wide-eyed in the dark, and an electric mandolin plays in the back of my mind - strumming softly chords that make my pulse quicken. As I peer into the sky, a single beam of sunlight cracks through the blackness, clawing its way across the horizon line; first slowly, gently.. then more. Steadily, hungrily, wildly. Rising up like an ancient dragon - flames for breathe, nimbus clouds for scales; breathing life into the grass and the ocean and the wind. earth: blue orange crimson purple swimming through the darkness and the shadows. My heart stops for about seven seconds.. seven eternities; every muscle of me is captivated; my whole self frozen. As the world moves through space, and I have a front row seat. Lying there. Silently - the whole world is silent.
Watching it. Wide-eyed wonderful breathless motion. Its right then, that I remember everything.

I remember we are all dying. And. I want to be alive more than anything in the world. I treasure it. More than anything in the world. I adore my body, my heartbeat, my eyes, my laughter, my failure, my victory. I adore you. I adore today. I adore sandstorms in January; standing barefoot on a white sand beach.. paddling through icey waters.. feeling the day wrap its arms around me. For all I am. We are all dying.

(Andrew Tipton)