"Padol, Padol! Sten Ap!"
When I had my first try in surfing not so long ago, I instatntly thought to myself: how can people love this? It's scary and tiring!
It seemed pointless to paddle your ass out until you get to the break, wait for big wave then paddle again, with all the possible effort you can muster, and when you feel that it's the perfect time, you stand and ride the wave. Not to mention, the sharp and spiny reef that was below us, which could mean major injuries should we get wiped out in wrong places! An extreme sport indeed.
I was like, "what?! How on earth are you supposed to know if it's the 'right time'?" And all the instructor could give me was a sly smile before saying, "you'll know it when it comes."
Right.
So there I was, paddling through, going against the current with all my might, occasionally pausing to catch my breath until my instructor, probably taking pity in my fruitless efforts, met me halfway and pulled the board the rest of the way. I felt that I gave it my all but I seemed to remain where I was, like I wasn't moving. That frustrated me a lot. When we reached the break, my instructor told me to hold on tight and get ready to stand when he tells me to. He said he'll catch a long wave for me so I can have a long ride as well. Convenient. This, I thought to myself, is probably what my P500 was for - so I can save myself from the exhausting 'paddle, paddle'. I was holding on tightly to the board for fear of the horror that lies on the sea bed in case I'd fall off, when I heard Mitz, my instructor for the hour, yell, "ready, ready!"
Oops.
I did not see that one coming so not surprisingly, I fell off and hit different parts of my body on the sea floor and on the surf board. So much for my first time. It took me a couple of times before I actually managed to balance my weight, stand up, and enjoy a long, refreshing ride on the wave.And that was when I realized why people would risk their lives for this--the thrill was indescribable! After that one successful ride, I did not stop until the hour was up and the instructors called it a day. I fell a couple of times more but those did not stop me from trying and trying. I went home exhausted with sore arms, legs, small cuts, a satisfied smile on my face, and a resolution to shape up with the hopes of taming the waves, sans instructor, in my next surf trip.
The main goal is to ride the wave. But before you can do that, you have to go through a grueling, tiring, sometimes humiliating, process of going against the current, reaching the break, and waiting there for the perfect moment to come, occasionally falling off and/or getting wiped out or simply missing your moment.
Wait--this process seems awfully familiar! It sounds a lot like life.
I'm in a point in my life right now where I think I finally know what I really want in and out of life but is not entirely sure how to get there--most likely tell tale signs of quarter life crisis. I feel like I'm putting a lot of effort into doing a lot of things that might get me to where I want to be, but I'm almost always met with a lot of set backs, obstacles and the sneaky feeling that my efforts might be put to waste that keep me from really pursuing them. It darn feels like I'm doing so much but not moving forward at all! I'm feeling the familiar feeling of frustration reminiscent to the frustration when I gave myself sore muscles for paddling against the current but not feeling any progress. The only difference is that in life, it's not easy to just hire someone to meet you in the middle and pull you out of your misery. Most often, the saving-from-one's-misery part is a do-it-yourself thing.
And exactly why do we need to paddle our way through? The very first time I surfed, I didn't have the slightest idea what to expect when I got to the break. In life, even though I more or less have an idea what the outcome of my efforts would be, I still can't be so sure of it as the future is, and will remain to be, annoyingly uncertain. My Self-Enhacing Cognitions (SEC), or the "better" cognitions, tell me that my paddling efforts weren't futile at all, because if I wasn't paddling, the current would've taken me even further away from my goal. Ont he other hand, my Self-Defeating Cognitions (SDC), or the devil's advocate, rebuke that I am not prepared enough to paddle my way through and it would be so much easier to just give up, and put off paddling for a few more years until I'm "ready." What a buzz-kill, you SDC's!
And then the part where you have to wait for the "right time" comes. The operational definition of the "right time" seems very vague and subjective both in life and in surfing. In the latter's case, only a handful of previous experiences, and lots of bruises and wound collectively known as "battle scars," would make you expert at knowing when the right moment is, most of the time (as even pro surfers miscalculate and get wiped out every once in a while). In life, though, I think the only time we can say it's the right moment is when we are already in that moment. As to how long it would take for one to paddle and be in the right moment is an entirely different issue too. Some could already ride successfully after a few attempts, others need more time. Life, like surfing, is never easy. You need to be in tip-top shape, you need to balance, you need to have the courage to risk falling into the sharp reefs, and, most importantly, to have the will and vigor to go against the current and brave through the waves.
I guess the most important chunk of wisdom I could share from my whole surf experience is to enjoy every moment, whether it's the right moment or not. Let the battle scars remind us that we dared and we conquered. And after all, if we miss a right moment, another one is most likely already on its way, as the ocean never runs out of waves.
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| My life-changing "very good nice" moment |
