I became a much better surfer when I stopped fighting the waves and became one with the sea – Chris Cotton

I love this quote from my friend Chis Cotton.

Chris started surfing at about 50 years old, and surfing became his passion. At 55, he had become a proficient, but not great, surfer. One day, instead of looking for waves to beat, he just felt the energy of the ocean flowing through him. When the next large swell emerged, he felt the force of the water pulling him in and rising. He rode that energy. It was like flying. It was pure exhilaration.

That’s when he became a surfing master.

Chris used that insight in life. He didn’t fight through experiences or obstacles, he adapted to each situation, each surprise, each challenge as part of the universe. He was part of the universe. He flowed through whatever happened. Whatever happened flowed through him.

Chris was a life master, and unfortunately passed away from Covid in 2021.

Last night, I was thinking about Chris. I was thinking about that phrase, which I’ve repeated to others for at least five years.

“I became a much better surfer when I stopped fighting the waves and became one with the sea.” It sounds like something we can all live by.

What hit me last night, “becoming one with the sea” can’t be the only mantra. It’s an elegant phrase, but it’s not complete.

The memory that woke me up was a day in Costa Rica. It was 2018, and we were at a remote Pacific beach with our extended family, including our Costa Rican daughter Lucia. She and I were jumping the waves, which were about two meters high. There was a strong undertow, but I really felt at one with the ocean.  

I looked at Lucia and something just didn’t seem right. The currents were too strong. Floating with the waves was going to get her washed out to sea, maybe drowned. Her face definitely gave away her distress.

I took a few steps deeper and grabbed hold of her arm. As the undertow tried to drag us out to sea, I anchored my feet in the sand and strained to stay in one place. When the next wave came in, I let it carry us about ten centimeters toward shore and then told Lucia to anchor her feet and turn sideways to the current which was just about to try and wrestle us back out.

We grasped each others’ arms. We leaned in toward shore. We held our place against the water surging back to the sea.

With the next incoming wave, we advanced another ten centimeters.

We turned, anchored, and held our ground through the next countercurrent.

It took at least a dozen waves for us to get close enough that we could walk the rest of the way in to shore.

We think we have things figured out: we are going with the flow. We know what to do and we don’t even have to think hard; it’s become habit.

Sometimes those are the most dangerous situations. The sea changes. What you were doing stops working. Being one with what worked before has lulled us to blindly do what we thought was working before.

It’s not working any more.

Maybe we try to continue what worked in the past. Maybe we aren’t even aware that the sea or environment has changed.

The situation doesn’t care if we recognize the change. The situation is the situation. What we were doing, thinking, and feeling isn’t going to get us what we want anymore.

Sometimes we need to anchor our feet in the ground. Take a pause. Look around. Explore.

New Years are always a good time to reassess. What’s changed? What’s not working? What needs to evolve? How are you going to adjust?

Note: the photo is our extended Costa Rican family on that vacation. Lucia is the third from the left. She is now a physician.