Far out in the open ocean, well beyond the watchful gaze of any surfer floating in wait, rays of sun begin to poke through the clouds, beaming heat energy from outer space into the flat expanse of liquid beneath. Delighted by the new exposure, the water molecules start getting excited, with electrons darting to and fro. The excitement becomes contagious, and the nearby air molecules join in on the fun by increasing their own rate of motion.

If the elemental partygoers pace themselves and continue to grow their festivities without burning out, stormy winds will begin to lacerate the surface of the ocean, causing ripples to form. Lonely by nature, the ripples merge with each other to form waves. Organized by nature, the waves group themselves into orderly sets, forming swells.

With well defined shapes and directions, the swells begin moving away from their chaotic creators, leaving the party behind to fulfill their noble purpose. Traveling low and steady across vast distances, a swell often comes into contact with a man-made buoy loaded with sensors. These sensors send measurements up through the atmosphere to a satellite, which direct them back to a receiving station to be analyzed by the latest algorithm and pushed straight to a surfer’s smartphone – letting her know when she shouldn’t schedule her early morning meetings during the upcoming week.

A few days later, dark lumps will become visible on the horizon, announcing the approaching grand finale. If the surfer managed to properly set up her schedule, she’ll be silently bobbing up and down in the takeoff area, ready to witness and hopefully participate in the performance.

As the swell nears shore, the show begins. The lower portion of each wave is slowed by contact with the underwater topography as it becomes shallower. But the upper portion, with nothing in its way, continues forward valiantly, causing the wave to rear up and pitch forward. Dense plumes of tiny air pockets form as the wall of water breaks on itself, exploding into millions of individual noises which coalesce into the distinctive symphony we know as the sound of a wave.

—

Surfers of a more philosophical disposition might like to think this ocean-induced process is meaningfully unique, but in actuality, the physical universe in which we reside is absolutely filled with waves. In fact, our universe would be exceedingly dull without waves, which are essentially responsible for propagating energy from place to place.

For example, the surfer is only able to hear the watery wave breaking because it sends out sound waves, which vibrate air molecules all the way to our inner ear. From there, a series of  well-evolved structures continues the propagation, including a curiously snail shaped cavity filled with liquid which turns the vibrations back into minuscule watery ripples. It is these ripples which will contribute to the chemical reaction generating an electric signal to let our brain know we just heard a wave crashing.

But it certainly doesn’t end there. Billions upon billions of brain cells in our heads are firing these electrical signals back and forth all the time, creating neural oscillations whose frequency can be measured outside our skulls. While we still don’t understand the full implications of these “brain waves”, they seem to be correlated with the current state of our minds.

—

The thing that truly fascinates me about waves though, is the way they serve as an example of how order and rhythm can arise from chaos. Just like the tidy ocean swells emanating from the violent storm, perfectly organized brain waves emerge from a seemingly disordered web of electrical signals.

I theorize that part of our intoxication with riding ocean waves is due to a deep desire for synchronicity. Our complex minds have evolved to constantly seek order in an attempt to make sense of the confusing world around us. Therefore, why not offer a rewarding flood of euphoric brain chemicals when, while ripping across the face of a salty wall of water, the body and mind achieve a brief moment of synchronization with the often wild and unpredictable elemental forces from whence they came.

This would make more sense if the desire to temporarily “be one” with ocean waves has been around for a while, and from what anthropologists can tell, that’s exactly the case. While the ancient Hawaiians are often attributed with the creation and popularization of the activity we call surfing in the modern day, the concept of a human riding a wave on some sort of buoyant craft seems to have arisen independently in several different coastal communities stretching as far back as five thousand years ago.

—

To go back even further, two thousand years before the documented evidence shows we started paying attention to watery waves, we have evidence to believe we began to turn our attention inwards to the mental waves which make up much of our moment to moment experience. Depictions of ancient humans sitting in meditative postures with their eyes half closed appear in wall art dating back seven thousand years.

Just as the first person to witness someone else mount a piece of wood and launching themselves into a raging ocean must have been thoroughly confused, I’m sure it wasn’t exactly clear why someone would choose to sit for long periods in an uncomfortable position, giving the appearance of doing absolutely nothing useful. And yet, both activities would come to inspire millions of people in the coming millennia to dedicate significant time to the pursuit of the riches gained, myself included.