I recently took myself on a little surf retreat. I was so excited, planning to spend a couple weeks focusing on my skills, zealous improving beginner that I am. I had a couple of great days and then – thwarted by an ear infection! – was told I would have to stay out of the water for at least 5 whole days. Hopes of paddling up the steep learning curve to catch the green wave dashed! (That’s surf talk for surfing)

I’m not going to lie. This meditator who has clocked many hours practicing non-attachment and noticing impermanence was restless. My trip wasn’t going as planned. I was falling behind! And then, on one of my many long beach walks, I looked out to the sea and caught myself.  “Oh,” I realized, “there are always more waves.” 

I suddenly saw what I was doing. I wanted the excitement and fast pace of the waves, and my body was matching that feeling in its restlessness. My muscles were bracing for the wave, but I wasn’t actually in the water! My brain knew I needed to rest and heal but I was fighting against exactly where I was. And then I realized the irony: while paddling hard to try to get to the wave and stand up on one is thrilling/intense/exhilarating and SCARY and the right combination of those elements equals fun for me, I don’t actually want that intensity all the time. 

The first time I tried to learn to surf was in my 20s. It was some parts excitement, some parts panic, and all parts difficult, and I didn’t know that exhaling and relaxing were key components to learning to do it well. In general, exhaling and relaxing were not my forte. In understanding and unwinding a tendency for my nervous system to be stuck in sympathetic arousal (think ‘fight’, ‘flight’, & ‘flee’) I have learned that along with the excitement, I also want to be in the spaces between the waves where I get to feel the coming down after the rush of the challenge, the energy of feeling strong and alive, the sweetness of communing with the ocean I love and feel at home in, and the stillness of nothing really happening. 

I long for these restorative pauses, exhales, and extended moments of relaxation, in life and in the surf. I know they are good for me, help me recover from hard things and become more resilient for the next. 

 As I caught what I was doing in reaction to being forced to drop my expectations,  I was gentle with myself. We’ve all experienced many waves, and sometimes they are huge, close together, and/or hold us underwater for what feels like too long. When we’ve had experiences like this – whether intense and scary, or intense and fun –  our nervous systems can behave as if we are still living the experience. It becomes hard to trust that the wave has subsided, or we expect another one to hit us at any moment. And it can also feel boring, like nothing is happening, when we aren’t on one. 

Another way to say it is this: big events that haven’t been resolved in our nervous systems can compress time. Past, present & future all run together and we may react as if we are still right in the middle of it.

As this realization wedged its way into my restlessness I felt myself slow down, notice more, and be right where I was. And there was a lot there. Ear discomfort, yes. The agitation of letting go of expectations, for sure. And also a lot of exhales into the rest that I needed, curiosity to watch and learn from the surfers who were out there, sweet times with my friends, and a whole lot of lying in the hammock. And some trust that this restorative pause, and being with things the way they were, could very well be making me a sturdier surfer when I got back out there. 

And there will definitely be more waves.

In a somatic therapy session we work together to notice how your nervous system stores and relates to your past, present, and future waves. I currently have room in my online practice for new clients. If you are curious about working together, book a free initial consultation here.