Sometimes it chooses you.
I look out into the blue and see a picturesque wave hoist itself above the horizon. I point and raise my eyebrows, deciding that’s where I want to surf. I kneel down, strap on my leash, grab my board, and make my way out. I sit, bobbing for a bit. Then a swell line peaks. With multiple people in the lineup, we all adjust our location, preparing for the wave to come- some paddle out, some paddle in, some head north, and others south. Then we check the path of the wave- who will get it? For a split-second I wonder if it’s even our choice.
It’s a big set wave and I begin to think I should paddle out of the way, out of its path. However, it was as if my name was written on the face of the wave- it came straight for me. There was no avoiding it. It was like the mailman was delivering it to my doorstep, knocked, and politely asked me to sign. With all eyes on me, eager to know what’s inside the package, I turn, gulp, and carve my name on the dotted line.
I stand. It bolts me down the surface so fast that my board starts skipping. I hold on, crouch low, and pray that I’m still up… It all seemed to blur, but a necessary one. It rushed more life into me than when I was settled on the beach. My heart rate increased and everything else in the world vanished. Excess adrenaline and a smile were all that remained after it was all said and done.
Sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, I think the waves choose us. I think the ocean has a way of sending us exactly what we need. Yet, sometimes, we ourselves don’t even know what we need. In those instances, it all seems scary, frightening, terrifying- we aren’t sure if we want to open the package. But then, for whatever reason, we decide to turn around, paddle, trust, and give it a try. The trust, the trying… those make all the difference.