The Dharma of Aquatic Speed

Posted on by tundranaut

cross-posted here

The rush of going fast on water is a celebration of the pure joy and freedom of living boldly — Unknown

Faster, faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death — HST

Speed is the ultimate modern experience — Ballard

The world of speed is the world of the absolute, of the immediate — Virilio

I spent a good chunk of July at one of PG&E’s campgrounds in the Lassen National Forest, at the base of the Sierra Nevadas. I won’t lie and say I love camping — I grew up a suburban latch-key kid with no rustic guidance and little aptitude for outdoor recreational activities. And while I spent many summers at my grandparents’ lake cottage, it wasn’t exactly The Revenant there. I struggle with tents and I hate using outhouses. And I don’t hunt or fish, because, as my wife says, I’m an insane PETA person. (Not true, but she loves to razz me about it).

There is, however, one aspect of camping that I’ve grown addicted to:

Jet skiing.

Few things in life compare to going 60 miles per hour across glassy water on an alpine lake, in the shadow of an ancient volcano.

Jet skiing makes the headaches of camping 100% worth it. I sometimes talk about limit experiences, e.g., phenomena that push one to the boundaries of their physical, psychological, and spiritual limits, and jet skiing has the capacity to tap into that, in exhilarating fashion.

Serendipitously, the following thread appeared on X during my jet-ski adventures:

The thread touches on two important things for me:

  • Its events take place in Michigan, the state where I was born and sometimes dream of returning to (a home on Lake Huron?); and
  • It highlights sobriety/recovery, which many of these jet-skiers embrace via adventures on the Great Lakes.

I myself have been alcohol-free since April 2015, I recently phased out all cannabis use, and I’ve weaned myself off a host of pharmaceuticals in recent years, which has been difficult. I recommend jet skiing as a tool for anyone in recovery.

The ride is more than just an adrenaline rush, though it’s certainly that. It generates feelings of hyper-vitality; all thoughts become super-charged. Everything feels possible, all goals within reach. Mega-appreciation for friends and loved ones swirls around. Hopes and dreams crystalize. Charisms activate.

I felt patriotic vibes and a sense of unity as well. Not in a schlocky United Colors of Benetton way, but in a frenzy of feelings related to American mythos and providence. I saw bald eagles (which is a good omen, some say). And I had weird, star-spangled premonitions of a summer-night oration by the man whose warrior instincts and poise would dazzle the world a few days later, on July 13 at 6:11 p.m.

The speed, aesthetics and acrobatics of jet-ski racing are hypnotic, as any quick YouTube search reveals. But nothing rivals the thrill of having your own grip on the handlebars and accelerating the throttle across a smooth blue surface, or riding headlong into oncoming waves, especially if you catapult yourself into the drink. In those moments, you will know what it feels like to ride energy, and you will feel gravity’s pull in an intoxicating way.

Below is the shoreline from our campsite; the slightest hint of sunlight would creep in as orange-pink hues around 4:30 a.m. behind those foothills, and the lack of light pollution allowed for several hours per night of star-filled skies.