Boogie Boarding Taught Me How to Ride Life's Waves

A couple of months back, My Guy and I were hanging out at Brennecke’s Beach in Poipu on the island of Kauai – chosen because Tripadvisor said it was an easy place to catch waves for boogie boarding. We’re no competition for the hunky surfer dudes and dudettes who hang out on their boards in the ocean like sea lions basking in the sun until the perfect wave comes along. Like cowboys mounting horses, they hop on their surfboards and effortlessly ride the crest of a wave with unimaginable grace and balance. That’s not us. Not even close. Nevertheless, we carried our boards to the beach that day with what we hoped was confident nonchalance.

If you ask My Guy where he’s from he’ll say “Southern California” even though his family moved to Kansas City when he was in middle school. There’s no use telling him (as I sometimes do), “You’re not really from Southern California, dude.” In his mind, he was born surfing, and on this day, since he’d brought me coffee and fresh papaya on the lanai, I was willing to play along.

So, I stood with the warm water up to my shoulders in a line of other boogie boarders. We were a string of pale white (in some cases very red) pearls strung across the small bay. All of us clung to our boards, waiting expectantly as the waves approached. 

I grew up in the Pacific Northwest where the water is cold enough to justify wearing a wet suit most of the year. There are plenty of brave souls who venture out into those waters. Not me. I never learned how to read where or when a wave is going to break. But when I saw the water undulating towards me like an Olympic swimmer before surfacing from her entrance dive, I recognized my perfect wave. Turning around on my board, I paddled furiously away. 

RIDING THE WAVE: THE FEELING OF BEING IN THE MOMENT

I caught that wave just as it was about to crest. It was as if I was riding on the back of a dolphin, unable to focus on anything but the thrill of hanging on to my board and gliding through the water at full throttle. I skidded to a stop on the sand in a moment punctuated by a rush of adrenaline,  joy, and the sense that everything was it should be – except for my bikini bottoms, which were down around my knees. 

Have you had that experience? The feeling of catching a wave at just the right moment and letting its energy carry you? The feeling of knowing you are in exactly the right place at the right time?

There’s a calmness, a focus that I feel in those moments. Sometimes I feel it when I’m writing. I’ll feel it when I’m doing dishes if I’m not too tired. Under certain, rare circumstances, I even get a taste of it when I’m paying bills – especially if I’m eating an orange chocolate truffle at the same time.

Those are the good waves. And like the wave that had me sailing effortlessly through the water, I want more. Don’t you? 

I popped up off the beach and raced back through the water to line up next to a skinny, teenage boy from Ohio. Together, we waited for that perfect wave.

“This is so gnarly,” I said. 

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled seriously unimpressed with how fluently I spoke surfer slang. 

I saw another wave coming, and because I was such a pro at this point, I immediately started swimming. This time I didn’t catch the wave. It caught me. My boogie board, that friendly dolphin that had carried me smoothly over the water moments again suddenly turned into Jaws and slapped me silly as I tumbled around underwater like a sock in the dryer. I inhaled gulps of saltwater instead of air. I thought I was going to drown. Instead, the ocean spit me unceremoniously onto the sand. There was no getting up rapidly and running towards the waves this time. I was beaten and bruised and wearing half the beach in my bathing suit which had the fullness of a baby’s diaper. 

Don’t we wish we could have the feeling of riding that perfect wave every day?

No such luck. Most days I’m struggling just to stay afloat. I’m so busy managing a household, stressing over work, obsessing about my family, and the royal family, and writing endless to-do lists. Oh, man! Do I ever love lists. I especially love checking things off those lists. 

While I was writing this piece (it was #1 on my list of things “I NEEDED TO GET DONE,”) my brother called. He lives on a sailboat in England, which sounds romantic and adventurous, but when the seagulls are the only ones joining you for dinner, it can get lonely. I listened to him tell me about moving his daughter into her apartment over the weekend and fixing the electricity on his boat. All the while, I was glancing at my computer, thinking I should get back to my writing. I was wondering if I could fit in a workout between responding to emails. My mind wandered…if he kept talking would I be able to finish a project I’d promised my client three days ago? I looked at my phone. How much longer before I could say I had to go?

Suddenly, it was as if the ocean of thoughts swirling around in my head seized up into one giant wave and spit me out onto a rocky beach of consciousness. Stop it! I thought. Let go of having to go…go…go. Be in the moment. (Or just “be” – isn’t that enough?)

What can I say? In my effort “to get everything done,” I’m so often running to the next thing on my list before I’ve settled into the place where I’m at in that moment. Which in this particular moment was talking to my brother who maybe needed a friend. Or at least a sister.

I shut down my computer and listened to my brother. He told me about the sunset that evening – a sunset that looked as if it had been painted by that great English artist, J.M.W Turner, and I invited him to visit me in Portland. I figured he might like to change up his dinner companions. When we hung up, I felt an energetic ease that lasted all day.

A wise friend told me that all my busyness – my striving – is just an attempt to carve out a bit of relevance for myself. I hated her for telling me this. But it’s true. I want skinny surfer boy to flash me a “hang loose” greeting, letting me know I still matter. It’s what we all want. At the end of the day, the only thing this striving and busyness has gotten me is a piece of paper with a bunch of check marks on it and more of the same tomorrow and the next day and the next. Until that is the measure of my days. 

Being in the moment. Joy. Acceptance of where I am in the water. All that is lost.

No wonder it’s hard to catch the wave.

It was a moment before I could pick myself up off that beach in Hawaii. When I did, I walked over to My Guy who patted the towel next to his in an invitation to sit. I wrapped my arms around my legs and looked out at the ocean. The waves would keep coming whether I was running out to them or not. Sometimes it’s nice just to sit on the sand and watch them come in.