The more we practice, the more we will be able to calm our minds to the point that none of the waves moves us or frightens us during our meditation. We can just bob in the crystal waters. But when we get off our zafus and return to work and social life, there will be many emotional rollers we will not be able to let pass, and this is when a surfer rejoices. It’s an opportunity to practice.

Surf’s up! It’s in those moments of sadness, anger, ecstasy, and lust that we might suddenly realise we’re on a huge wave. We can freak out and fall, or just relax and go with it. Once we are comfortable on our boards, we can even carve it up, analyse it, and play. I think this is how bodhisattvas are able to use strong emotions to teach their students, without being negatively affected themselves.

The Dalai Lama is said to show intense wrath with his close students. I imagine that he is riding a wave of anger, but like the most skilled professional surfer, he is careening down anger’s face completely relaxed. Employing it. Then letting it go. We may not be as good as the Dalai Lama, but we can, through developing lucidity, know when to let an ugly, dangerous wave roar by without catching it. And when a beautiful wave comes - perhaps we fall in love, perhaps we

hold a newborn baby - we can catch it, maybe even get inside the hollow tube

and see its beautiful emptiness. But we will know as the wave ends not to be attached. It’s just a bunch of salt water. — Beliefnet.com (Concluded)