How to Fail
The sun was slowly taking its first steps into the morning sky. I could feel the cool moisture around my feet as I glided across the quiet waves.
I sighed, feeling satisfied that I made it to the sea. It had been a few weeks, I missed her. She had been calling me.
Steading myself on a fragile bridge between the sea and sky, I felt like time stopped for me. The world was holding its breath, the silence everywhere was palatable.
The warm salty breeze embraced me, danced with me and pushed me. I began to glide effortlessly, on top of the mirror-like sea. Every stroke, distorting the reflection, only temporarily. It felt like I was dancing on water.
In the golden haze of the morning, I no longer felt myself or by myself, but a part of something far greater, a fragment of a story that spanned beyond me.
This is the world of paddleboarding.
Standup paddleboarding, SUP for short, is an activity that has become my personal metaphor for life's journey.
The pace of life, much like the pace of SUP, is designed to be unhurried and reflective. I often forget that. SUP reminds me.
It invites me to dive deeper into moments of contemplation. The world around me and inside of me, with its ceaseless hustle and bustle, often drowns out my inner voice. However, out there dancing on the water, the only music playing is that of my deep inner thoughts.
The world beneath the water's surface can be a mirror to my inner world.
It's a realm of tranquility and chaos, of light and darkness, of life and death. It's a world that is constantly changing, yet remains the same in its essence. It's a world that is beautiful in its complexity, in its unpredictability, in its resilience. It's a world that reminds me of my impermanence, my insignificance. Yet, also of my potential, my capacity to adapt, to evolve and to overcome adversity.
The journey of paddleboarding, much like the journey of life, is fraught with challenges.
There are days when the waters are calm and the journey feels smooth. There are days when the waters are rough and the journey feels tumultuous. Regardless, the journey continues. Each wave, each gust, each stroke, is an invitation to move forward.
I have nowhere to go when I’m on the paddleboard, like life. I literally go out and come back to the exact same spot I left. Finding joy in the journey is my only option.
There is an unpredictability that feels exciting on the paddleboard, however one that I often fear in life. Learning to embrace the unknown is my only option.
Ten years ago, in the heart of Vancouver, I found myself on a paddleboard for the first time. It was etched into my memory, not for the thrill of the experience, but for the fear and uncertainty that gripped me. A fear of falling, of failing, and of the potential embarrassment. It was an experience marked by fear, a stark contrast to the ease and confidence with which I navigate the sea, and life, today.
The transformation from fear to mastery did not occur overnight.
It was a journey, a process that required time, practice, and perseverance. A testament to the power of courage in the face of my fear.
The fear of falling, or failing, has been replaced with the knowledge that I will rise again, stronger and more resilient. The fear of failing, or failing, has been replaced with the understanding that failure is but a stepping stone to success.
The pursuit calls for balance and focus, a steady hand, and an even steadier mind.
Paddleboarding is a test of will and skill, an interplay of forces both within and beyond my control. Consider the wind, an unseen yet palpable force, a power that can either propel me forward or push me back. In life, there are moments when I feel an energetic wind pushing me forward, a ‘yes’ from the universe to everything I ask. At other moments, the energetic wind is pushing up against me, a ‘hold on’ from the universe. A prompt to question the choices I have made.
When on the sea, I cannot paddle against the wind. Despite how motivated or strong I feel. The smartest thing to do is to adapt my reality, rather than fight it.
Standing up, suspended between the sky and the sea, I gain a new perspective.
I see things I couldn’t see when I was in the water - the fish darting below, the anchors holding boats steady, even the occasional piece of litter floating aimlessly. To truly understand, to truly see, I must take rise above it all to gain a full or fresh perspective.
The sea, much like life, is a vast expanse of possibilities and challenges. Just as the sea is not defined by its waves, my life is not defined by its struggles. It is defined by how I respond to them, how I navigate through them, and how I rise above them.
Most of all, I am reminded of a simple yet profound truth - I am not a mere spectator in the grand theater of life; I am the dancer, the explorer, the adventurer. I am the author of my story.
Each time I stand on my paddleboard, a solitary silhouette against the nascent light, I realize that embracing falling and failing has been my most beautiful conquest.
Each ripple in the water echoes a lesson learned, a fear conquered. I no longer dread the unknown paths, the unpredicted storms; I welcome them with open arms, for they shape my journey, molding me into a resilient voyager in the sea of existence.
In the gentle sway and the tumultuous waves, I found not just a sport but a philosophy, a sacred dance between surrender and control, fear and freedom.
Every time I set out into the embrace of the sea, I am reminded to be patient with myself, to celebrate the falls, the stumbles, the uncertain steps, because they are the verses in my poetic journey through life.
I pledge to keep dancing, to keep falling and failing gloriously, to keep rising with a spirit untamed and a heart unafraid. In this beautiful struggle, I have discovered not just how to fall and fail, but the secret to living fully, richly, and with joy.
And that is how I learned to fail.
