Chasing the Still Point in the Storm

True presence isn’t always found in peace—it can live in the heart of the wave

“I can’t pretend I did it because it was fun. You’re chasing something. And to me particularly, I was so troubled in my mind that I was chasing moments to be present or aware.”
— Maya Gabeira, National Geographic April 2025 (18-03-2025)

Summary

In the chaos of big-wave surfing, Maya Gabeira wasn’t searching for fun—she was grasping for clarity. Hers is a story not of thrill-seeking, but of a deeper, rawer pursuit: to feel truly alive in moments when everything else is stripped away.

Ocean - Cronulla (Fri 14 Jun 2024)

Explanation

We often assume that love for a pursuit means happiness—that passion should come with pleasure. But what Maya Gabeira reveals is more elemental: she surfed not for fun, but for presence. In the towering silence of a wave’s rise, she found a sliver of stillness—a place where anxiety fell away and something like peace could surface.

To chase something so vast, knowing it can break you, demands more than courage. It requires honesty: about pain, about fear, and about the strange way suffering can become a kind of home when it offers clarity. Maya wasn’t chasing joy. She was chasing moments. Moments when she could feel fully awake, fully there, fully her.

It’s easy to chase ease, to daydream of work that feels like a holiday, to romanticise the idea of a life reshaped by freedom. But what if meaning isn’t found in the escape? What if it lives in the tension, the difficulty, the quiet resolve to return to the wave, again and again, even when it hurts?

The hardest pursuits often hold the greatest truths—not because they make us happier, but because they make us more present. In doing the thing that frightens us, bores us, tests us—we meet ourselves. And sometimes, we even heal.

Maya didn’t ride waves to be entertained. She rode them because they were real. In a world full of distraction and noise, the elemental force of the sea demanded something rare: her full attention. That’s what she chased. Not happiness. Not glory. Just presence.

About Maya Gabeira

Born in Rio de Janeiro, Maya Gabeira is one of the world’s most accomplished big-wave surfers. After a near-fatal wipeout in Nazaré, Portugal, she endured years of recovery to come back stronger, setting world records and championing ocean conservation. As a UNESCO Champion for the Ocean and Youth, her work now blends advocacy with a deeper message: when you love something—truly—you return to it, not for escape, but for meaning.

About Sia

Sia is an Australian singer-songwriter known for her emotionally raw, evocative music and distinctive voice. Her song “Breathe Me”, first released in 2004, has become a quiet anthem of vulnerability and survival. In its acoustic form, it feels stripped back and exposed—mirroring Maya Gabeira’s own relationship to risk, fear, and the strength found in returning to what almost breaks you.

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🎧 Sia – Breathe Me (Acoustic)

What follows isn’t an analysis, but a quiet pairing—a few lines from the song that seem to echo Maya’s story in unexpected ways. The lyrics don’t describe her directly, but they resonate with the emotional rhythm of her return to the waves: fragile, honest, and searching for something real. Love the song and the performance.

After Afterthought: Breathe Me

“Help, I have done it again / I have been here many times before”

There’s something in this line that echoes Maya’s return to the waves. Despite everything—despite knowing what could happen—she goes back. Not for fun. Not for glory. Because something inside calls her to.

“Hurt myself again today / And the worst part is there’s no-one else to blame”

Big-wave surfing is chosen suffering. No one asks her to do it. The pain is hers, and so is the healing. Just like the voice in the song, there’s ownership here—of risk, of struggle, of growth.

“Be my friend, hold me / Wrap me up, enfold me”

There’s a softness to this request that feels close to what Maya found in the sea. The wave won’t hold you gently—but it will take you in. That’s what she chased. Not happiness, but connection. To something real.

“I am small and needy / Warm me up and breathe me”

No one feels big on a 70-foot wave. You’re not in control. And yet, in that vulnerability, there’s clarity. The need to feel alive, to be seen by the world—even just for a moment.

“Lost myself and I feel unsafe”

Maya has spoken about fear and anxiety as part of her life. The ocean was dangerous—but in some ways, it gave her something steadier than her own mind. It didn’t make her feel safe, but it gave her a place to come back to.