Lessons from the Ocean

In December I decided to take a break from the gruesome job hunt which had consumed most of my days in 2020. Days filled with phone calls that ended with "We'll be in touch soon," and emails that I opened to see "We're sorry we can't help you, maybe this summer."

On February 1st I flew to the island of Hawaii, not to be confused with the state of Hawaii. I told myself that I would take a break from the obsessive desire I had of landing a journalism job and instead go to Hawaii to do 1 thing - learn how to surf.

I now know why Jesus liked walking on water.

And I also understand why Peter was afraid to.

I watched a few beginner surfing videos before I went out with my cheap foam longboard. One of those videos said, "If anything, surfing will teach you how to be resilient."

I already knew I was resilient. But the ocean didn't care.

The ocean doesn't care what kind of day you had before you head into the water. It doesn't care what's on your mind. It doesn't care if it's your first time surfing or your1,000th. The ocean has one job - to keep going.

You can't predict it. You can't plan around it. You just have to do your best with what it gives you.

This frustrated me. A lot. The constant change of the tide and the wind, the pain and panic of crashing into the ocean, the constant awareness it takes to not be in the wrong spot at the wrong time, the frustration of trying your hardest for a wave just to completely miss it while everyone else catches it.

Escaping real life for the ocean didn't work out the way I thought it would.

The beauty of the ocean is it humbles everyone. It doesn't judge you. Everyone out there going for waves has fallen, hard. Some just have more scars to show for it than others do.

The other beautiful thing about the ocean is it's guarantee. The ocean is there every single day even when the waves are not. And it always keeps it's promise to have waves again soon if you have the patience to wait.

Another lesson the ocean graciously taught me is the danger of panicking. Panicking in the middle of a set is the worst thing you can do. If you allow yourself to panic, all you do is waste energy that you NEED to get out of the situation. You can't allow yourself to be caught up in the wave or you won't be able to brace yourself for whatever is coming next.

Surfing makes you resilient, yes. But surfing also tests your limits, your awareness, your survival instincts, and most of all your trust. Do you trust the ocean to let you up to the surface? Do you trust yourself to know which wave to take? Do you trust that the ocean won't run out of waves that day? Do you trust your exhausted body to paddle back in after 2 hours of getting pounded by waves?

I'm still deciding what I trust. But I do trust that God gave me a strong will and resilient heart for a reason. I don't believe surfing is entirely that reason but it's made me thankful for the personality God gave me and excited to see what it's purpose is for.

I still have a lot to learn from the ocean. That's why I've decided to stay here until I have something to come back for. Because just like with life, you can't force waves that aren't meant for you. You have a choice with every wave you face, to either get over it, beneath it, or simply let it ride.