Waves

Sitting under a Gazebo at the edge of a Blancheusse cliff, Trinidad and Tobago, my ear funnels the sounds of roaring, raging, and ravenous waves building, “crescendoing”, and crashing relentlessly and violently along the innocent, vulnerable shoreline. They are travelling in ripples, forming one after another, breaking and gliding towards a receptive beach. 

Sitting with the awesome sight and fearful sound of the waves, I imagine life as an endless series of waves – 

waves of expected and unexpected circumstances, 

waves of healthy and unhealthy human behaviour, 

waves of stable and unstable community, societal, family, regional, and national events,

waves of natural disasters and phenomena, 

waves of religious experiences, 

waves of cultural dynamics,

waves of divergent human personalities,

waves of political upheavals,

waves of social unrest,

waves of intellectual gymnastics,

waves of emotional expressions,

waves, waves, waves

constantly forming in our lives.

How do we respond to these waves?

We either avoid them and remain fearfully imprisoned on the beach of life, or

like surfers, take up our surfing board, paddle out to sea, time and catch the waves, and then learn to ride them. 

Learning to ride waves is a lifetime endeavour. In the beginning, it feels clumsy and awkward; we fall from the board, and the waves beat, batter and bruise us. We learn to remount our surfing boards of life and try again because “practice makes permanent.” 

The key to navigating the waves of life is spending time studying the waves and their complexities, variations, manifestations, capabilities, and impact. Experience is critical. Experience allows us to learn not only from the wisdom of older surfers but also from our own experiences of failure, fear, and fortunes. 

Those who succeed in life master the art, science and spirituality of riding waves. Waves are intimidating, but we have the capacity to ride them.