Ever since I was a child, I have loved the water… I would run toward the lapping waves and feel my toes sink into the soft, wet sand. Joy surrounded me as I splashed into the deeper water, floating and allowing the ocean’s ebb and flow to carry me.
I didn’t need to make any effort to swim.
I simply surrendered body, mind, and soul, rocking back and forth like a baby. Lying on my back, toes floating above the surface, my ears submerged, I’d listen to the hypnotic hum of the sea. Everything else disappeared— even the sound of my mom calling me to come home. Or at least, I pretended not to hear.
One beautiful August afternoon, we gathered with some friends at the seaside for a barbeque. As they set up, I excused myself, saying I wanted to catch a quick sail before dinner.
I slid my windsurf board into the warm water and pushed off, sailing toward the horizon. I wanted to watch the sunset from there and was in awe of the breathtaking palette of oranges, yellows, and reds. I paused, meditating with the sea and the sky, when suddenly, the wind died. The waves vanished leaving me floating on my windsurf board, barely moving.
I stood up and waved my arms, frantically trying to catch the attention of my friends on shore,who were now busy at the barbeque. I shouted out and they waved back—completely unaware of my situation! In hindsight, It was amusing, but at the time, panic began to creep in.Was something large swimming under my board? Was I imagining a shark? As my trust in the water wavered,I lay down on the board and took deep breaths. Slowly, my fear gave way to peace. I felt the energy of the sea’s stillness. The birds quieted, and the noise of the world faded..
This was the first time dealing with such a situation -all my lessons had been about riding the waves, not navigating the calm.
Eventually, a friend with a jet ski noticed and came out to help. He explained that I needed to reposition the sail, point the board toward the shore, lie on my stomach, and paddle with my arms. A simple technique, but one I hadn’t learned. Grateful, I followed his advice and paddled back to safety.
What struck me was how my friends never worried. They trusted, I would find a way back. And as I surrendered to the stillness, my fear dissipated, replaced by a clear solution.
That day taught me a powerful lesson about surrender and trust. Sometimes, when the winds die and the waves disappear, the best thing we can do is lie back, take a deep breath, and trust that all will be well.
And so it was.
*** If someone has forwarded you this newsletter and you enjoyed my reflections, make sure to sign up for my newsletter. Twice a month, I’ll share personal stories, reflections, and insights to help you navigate life’s waves–whether they’re calm or stormy. Let’s stay connected.