Tumultuous Tides
“You’re doing great!”
That’s what the surfing instructor shouted to me as I stood up on the board during my first lesson, proudly riding the wave we’d been waiting half an hour for.
But it didn’t last long. The scene quickly took a turn from jubilant triumph into amusing spectacle when a powerful rogue wave materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, crashing into me and knocking me off the board into the Atlantic. Then another came unexpectedly from the other side, simultaneously propelling me down into the sea and the salt water so violently up my nostrils that I felt it in my brain. I got my bearings about me, stood up and grabbed the board, heading toward the safety of the shoreline, just in time for a third to crash into me from behind, sending me splashing forward onto my knees, the board thudding into my back as I fell into the water. I was spun around by the undercurrent, the board finally settling forcefully in my ribs. I rested my arms on it as a flotation device to keep my head above water while I asked myself “wtf just happened?”
The instructor Michael Phelps’d his way to my side as I was crawling to the shoreline on hands and knees and made sure I was okay before we both burst into laughter. It was an “epic wipeout,” he said. One that belonged on a surfing blooper site.
Multiple times in life, I’ve found myself thinking, “You’re doing great,” as I ride the proverbial waves, only to be abruptly swept away and left stunned, asking myself, “What just happened?”
Sometimes, even when tidal waves are threatening to overtake you, all you can do is laugh.
Road Trip
My oldest two girls and I just embarked on a 19-hour road trip to Cocoa Beach in our third visit to Florida in the past year.
Claire, my firstborn, turns 16 at the end of the month and we decided a girls trip would be the perfect excuse for some driving experience, mother/daughter bonding, and an intimate Sweet 16 celebration.
A road trip, rather than air travel, seemed the perfect addition to this freedom journey I’m on. No time constraints, no lines, no baggage requirements, or cosmetic-hating TSA workers on power trips because my half-full bottle of conditioner says 4 oz. rather than a specific 3.4 oz., which is only a problem on the way back, completely fine the way there.
Complete freedom to sing our hearts out, listen to podcasts, or call an audible and detour to the French Quarter in New Orleans at 9:30 on a Sunday night for crab cakes, gator, and gumbo.
Life can be a beach
We got to Cocoa Beach at dusk just in time to witness high tide after a storm. The sky looked like it had just finished a good cry; the clouds were still puffy, but calm, and the sky was still backlit from the setting sun.
But the sea was dark and restless! It seemed as cranky as if it had been on a 19 hour drive, tired, and hungry. Continuous breaking waves fought one another to push mounds of brown, spiky sargassum seaweed to rest on the shoreline.
Normally, it’s a harmless type of seaweed that’s more of a mild nuisance than a threat, but I had been reading about how plastic pollution has been getting caught in it making it a home for a deadly, flesh-eating bacteria called vibrio, and while that’s an oversimplification of it, that’s the basis of what I was aware of so I told the girls it was dangerous and that we needed to stay away from it until I could get more information about it.
We had already removed our shoes with the intention of walking the shoreline when we saw the clumps lining the shore. I suggested we wait until morning to walk the beach after it had all been cleared away, but this being our first night the girls were excited and I was overruled. To mitigate the risk of death by vibrio-related infection, it was decided that we would wear our shoes while walking.
In the sand. On a restless beach.
What ensued next could be interpreted as a cautionary tale of the panic and chaos that can arise from unintentional ignorance and misinformation.
Claire, who was wearing Chloe’s Crocs, stepped onto the sandy shoreline and into an oncoming wave that threw a clump of potentially flesh-eating seaweed onto her ankle. She panicked and kicked both shoes off in her attempt to rid herself of the threatening brown mass and ran further back toward us.
Chloe starts yelling, “MY SHOES!” and Claire’s face turns to horror as she realizes what she’s done. She immediately runs back in an attempt to grab them, but is only able to make it to one before a breaking wave reaches up and out from the sea like a hand, grabs the other one, and drags it back out to the depths of the ocean.
The scene took a moment. The sea took the shoe.
Claire tried to run that direction after it, hoping it would appear when the wave receded.
“Baby, It’s gone” is all I could say.
Smiling through the Waves
Of all the initial emotions we went through, laughter wasn’t one of them.
Chloe’s eyes welled up with tears from a mix of shock, sorrow and anger. “That was my shoe,” she said softly, then she became quiet and dejected. Claire felt terrible, apologizing repeatedly and wanted to keep walking the beach in case it washed back ashore. I felt helpless to make either of them them feel better. We were all tired and hungry and the tension was as thick as the humidity.
I insisted we all get something to eat, and I ordered a potent, touristy beach drink called “Toes in the Sand” as soon as we sat down to dinner at the hotel’s oceanfront grille, knowing full well I’d need the relief. Both girls were snappy and tense. The tantrum of the sea seemed contagious.
I’m all for validating feelings and letting them go through their emotions but, finally, I’d had enough – I imagine this is how I’ve made my therapist feel on occasion.
“Okay, look,” I said, “it’s an unfortunate thing that happened. Chloe, you’re upset that your shoe is gone. Claire, you feel guilty and responsible for losing it. Sometimes things just happen and it sucks and you’re allowed to feel badly but this is no one’s fault. It’s just a thing that happened. We’re at the beach! We’ll go get new shoes tomorrow and one day we’ll tell this as an amusing story!”
Claire defensively responded with “That would be a stupid story to tell!”
Clearly, I disagree.
Slowly the food and drinks arrived, the conversation turned more light-hearted and the tension began to lift. We started joking around, singing wrong words off-key to songs, and even laughing a little.
“Remember how disappointed you were anyway when those crocs came in and they were more cream rather than crisp white?” I asked Chloe.
“Maybe we’ll find some white ones here!” I said, leading us further away from devastation and closer to true relief.
Then, the perfect moment to dissipate the last of the tension presented itself when we were casually making plans for the next day.
Claire had relaxed and was beginning to seem at ease when she asked, unassumingly, “Can I use your cover up tomorrow?”
I replied, “As long as you don’t throw it in the ocean!”
Chloe choked back a giggle.
Claire glared at me, her jaw clenched, battling conflicting emotions of embarrassment and amusement.
“Too soon?” I asked.
“Too soon!” she said.
Then we all burst into laughter.
Current Lessons
The next day, after a good night’s sleep, sustenance, the sand, sea, sun, and surfing lessons, we explored the Cocoa Beach area and found a crisp pair of white crocs in the right size in a Surf Style shop.
“The ocean’s just doing what it does. You just have to let it do what it does,”
That’s what the surfing instructor told me as the waves diverted us from our intended path, carrying us further down the shoreline, away from where my daughters were riding their waves.
He likely didn’t intend for that to be a philosophical moment, but with the recent challenges I’ve faced in my life, navigating through the turbulent waters of relationship and career failures, I took it as profound.
We weren’t in control. We were just along for the ride.
When I start wondering, “What just happened?” or “How did I get here?” I realize that too often, I’ve questioned myself, wondering what missteps led me there. But just like with the shoe, sometimes, it’s just an unfortunate thing that happened and not my fault.
I’m accepting that while I am the captain of my own journey, willingly immersing myself in new experiences and giving myself the opportunity to embrace life’s currents and tides, life does what it does.
“Most of my students are tired by this point,” he told me. And I realized I probably was tired, but it hadn’t dawned on me. I was singularly focused on catching that next wave, as has often been the case with me in everyday life.
When I was selective about which wave to try and overly-focused on getting the technique right, he said, “You’re a perfectionist, aren’t you?” These words resonated with me, reminding me of the expectations I place upon myself, and how they can sometimes impede my progress. I needed to let go, accept the waves that came my way, and stand up without overthinking the technique. This perfectionism was reinforced when it took me a week of refining to complete a 9-minute blog post.
I want to take my chances. I want to call audibles and keep myself open to new experiences without fear of the next tidal wave.
Much like the deadly seaweed and occasional shark encounters of Cocoa Beach, the risks we encounter are often exaggerated. The chances of experiencing severe infections from seaweed or falling victim to a shark attack are statistically minimal, less than 1%. We navigated through these waters unscathed, focusing on the moments that made our trip meaningful.
In the end I accepted that surfing, like many other pursuits I’ve engaged in, isn’t for me, but I enjoyed the experience. It was something I got to do with my girls. It was tough, but a lot of fun. That, too, is life.
Just like on our road trip, where we embraced the freedom of the open road and detoured without hesitation, I’ve come to realize that life’s journey is much the same. It’s about embracing the waves, navigating the unpredictable currents, and finding the courage to let go of control. Life is the ultimate freedom journey, and I choose to ride its waves, no matter where they may lead.
That’s just life doing what it does. It will come and knock you down just as you’re riding your wave. All you can do is resurface and get back out there to catch your next wave.
We reluctantly bid farewell to the beach and our adventure, reflecting on the fun we had and wishing we could stay longer, but we had to begin the return trip home for our next adventure. A concert, that coincidentally and unexpectedly turned out to have a roadtrip theme! More on that next time.
Till then, keep chasing your next wave.
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