Surfing Lesson
Total Surrender to the Wave
I’m from California. I’ve never surfed a day in my life.
Which is slightly ironic, because I went to a university right on the Pacific Ocean… surrounded by people who treated “catching waves” like going to the farmer’s market.
One afternoon, I was hanging out with friends when a guy from our hall walked by and stopped to chat. He’d been surfing that morning and had a story to tell.
“I got caught in a wave and couldn’t get out,” he said, very calmly, like he was describing a mildly inconvenient parking situation. “You’re supposed to stay calm so you don’t use up all your oxygen, so I just let it roll me. Then another wave came… and I still couldn’t get out, so I rolled under the water again, and then a third wave came, so I rolled again.”
Three waves.
Three times held underwater.
Three times choosing not to panic.
My eyes were basically bursting out of my head.
I asked him, “How could you possibly be calm when you’re trapped underwater like that?!”
And he just shrugged. That’s just what you do.
This 19-year-old understood something I didn’t. When you’re dealing with a force more powerful than you, fighting it isn’t brave… it’s dangerous.
You don’t win against the ocean.
You work with it.
And sometimes, that means total surrender.
I’ve thought about that moment so many times over the years because it’s such a perfect metaphor for life.
This world - this life, this universe - it’s powerful. Beautiful, yes. But also unpredictable and, at times, overwhelming.
There are moments when you absolutely need to fight for what matters.
And there are moments when fighting will only keep you stuck underwater longer.
Because, like it or not, trying to force your way out of something before it’s ready to release you can exhaust you… or break you.
The wave will win.
So the question becomes can you trust yourself enough to ride it out?
Can you stay calm inside the chaos?
Can you let go of the desperate need to get out right now?
Because ironically, that’s often what gets you back to the surface.
I’ve seen this show up again and again in real life.
The wave of grief.
The wave of shame.
The wave of “I should be over this by now.”
And the more you fight it - the more you tell yourself you have to get out of it - the longer you stay stuck inside it.
But when something shifts… when you get curious instead of combative… when you ask, “What might this be here to teach me?” - that’s when the upward movement begins.
Not because the pain disappears.
But because you stop trying to outrun it.
Every pain carries a message.
And it will keep speaking… until you’re willing to listen.
(Annoying, I know.)
Even writing this, I got my own little reminder.
When the idea for this blog first came to me, I was so excited. I thought, “Oh, I’ll definitely remember this.”
I did not.
Later, I sat down to write and… nothing. Blank. Gone. Vanished into the abyss.
I tried to force it back. Tried to think harder, jog my memory. I got more and more frustrated.
Until I finally gave up.
I stepped into the shower and thought, “Fine. What should I write about then?”
And just like that - the surfing story popped right back into my head.
Of course it did.
Because apparently I don’t just get to talk about surrender…
I have to practice it too.
Has this ever happened to you? What opened up - or finally clicked - the moment you stopped trying to force it?
And I’m curious… is anyone here a surfer? What has the ocean taught you - about yourself, about life, about letting go?