It's cold. I've chickened out of surfing this morning, because...it's cold. Air temperature in the 40s is my limit! I'm also waiting on news of a big decision and it's like I only have enough bravery for one thing at the moment. Which is silly, because surfing makes me feel better -- every anxiety leaves my brain and body completely when I hit the water, so I should have gone out. I would feel better, even in the cold. It strikes me that I'm in between waves, and while being in between waves on the water is an absolute pleasure, being in between waves on land is hard. One of the best parts of surfing is waiting for the next wave, and there is wisdom in that.
In between waves is when I am floating peacefully on my board, chatting with friends or friendly strangers, admiring the clarity of the water, watching the little fish swimming below me, and seeing dolphins gracefully slide by in the distance. In between waves is when we get silly, practicing balancing moves on our surfboards, often failing and falling into a sea of laughter. On the days that Catalina is visible, I look out across the deep blue and take time to wonder what's out there -- whales and sharks and cephalopods and a million kinds of fish I do not even know yet -- different beings with different earthly experiences. I wonder what it's like to live in the muted sound of the water. In between waves, I lay flat on my board and feel the rythm of the gentle tides while staring face-to-face into the eyes of a pelican. In between waves is really cool. Peaceful. Fun.
On land, I'm in constant mental motion. I'm currently looking for a new job and just had an interview. I'm gaming out possible scenarios -- EVERY possible scenario that I can imagine. I'm trying to anticipate what my new life will be like, where I will live, will I ride a bike for work, the budget implications of riding or driving and the limits that puts on an address. I google e-bikes for an evening. I stalk the availability of local apartments. I wonder if this is THE RIGHT decision. Or if I'm definitely making a premature decision. It's exhausting. I'm incessantly planning for contingencies, wondering if the next step is the right step, and worrying, worrying, worrying about making a mistake. Berating myself for being this old and not in a job in which I have a good retirement account established.
The opposite of being in the moment.
The opposite of joyfully being in the moment, admiring the clarity of the water and the little fish swimming below me.
I have done this -- job hunting, moving, seeking something else, something better, many times before. I'm exhausted with myself, quite frankly. It was only one year ago that I was absolutely delighted with where I was and very content with my decision. I worry that I will never be satisfied, never be able to be satisfied, that early adoption of perfectionism as a coping strategy is so deeply ingrained in my psyche that I will continue to want something more even when I am 97% happy and content. I need to find the on land equivalent of joyfully admiring the clarity of water and little swimming fish and practicing balance with playful amusement.
In an Offering from last January, Jessica Dore quoted from another book she was reading, Paul's Transformative Experiences. She writes, "[O]ur capacities to imagine and know are so often limited in the face of major life choices, and this has consequences, obviously, on the integrity of our decision-making. If we consider what we care about currently, and imagine how the results of a particular choice will feel to our future selves after the change has been made, the truth of the matter is 'we only learn what we really need to know after we have already committed ourselves. If we try to escape the dilemma by avoiding the new experience, we have still made a choice' (2015)."
That's what worries me. There is no way to know if this is the right choice. No way to know what will develop over time. We can only do the best we can with the information we have at the time. We can only analyze options according to current information and our current values and in conversation with our current experience. Like Harry Potter in every one of the books, we are unreliable narrators of our own lives; we only know so much. And a day long interview is never enough to inform a reading of the future.
I've been in too many situations now in which things started out lovely, got even better, then got worse. So, I'm tempted to make a decision by not making a decision to jump ship. I wonder: perhaps there is another space on the other side of worse that is a new frontier, like the space between Blackies and Catalina, filled with a million kinds of fish I've yet to know? There is always something else to learn. No decision is still a decision, and there is much to discover in these waters -- in a potentially good way. I can should I stay or should I go myself to death. Pro/con myself into eternity. How do I do this differently?
In the past, my work life has been grand and my personal life has not been terribly satisfying. Presently, it is the opposite. Oprah used to have a column in her magazine, "What I Know For Sure." So far, that is the best title that fits my decision making. Based on what I know for sure right now, I'm making a change.
But a change to what?
On top of my surfboard, I am very comfortable with not knowing. I don't even think about what could be coming -- two of my friends now have been stung by sting rays and one was in the water with a leopard shark the other week. (She said, "It was so cute!) I don't worry about these things. At all. Honestly. I am too busy being enthralled by the loveliness of the moment. On top of my surfboard, I wait patiently for the next wave to come. The ocean gives what it gives and I am satisfied by it. I am very comfortable with not being in any sort of control, other than how I handle myself. On land, I am working on that equanimity between waves.
I am breathing. When all else fails, focus on my breath. Repeat to myself, "Right now, I am OK. I have a roof over my head. I have food in the refrigerator. I am loved and have support." I am paying close attention to how I feel in the moment. When I was at the interview, I noticed how I felt, rather than what I thought. And, thanks to Buddhist therapist guy, I am reading and rereading The Three Tenets by Zen Peacemakers. Not Knowing, Bearing Witness, then Taking Action. If I can sink into the not knowing and bearing witness, just like when I'm on The Admiral, then the action I take will be the best I can do at the time -- much better informed, or at least differently informed, than my endless waves of machinations, contingency planning, and strategy. Waves of wisdom coming at me, I pause in the middle to admire them and let them sink in.
I also keep wondering how things might be different when I approach them differently. I think I'll be more able to discern wise action for my next job and in my next job, because I'm finally aware of some of the tricks my mind and my conditioning play. I am less likely to get involved with my assumptions, more likely to disrupt habitual ways of responding (like writing this blog post). I may be exhausted these days, because I'm not only thinking about this decision, but thinking about how I am making this decision, and trying to do things differently. Change is hard. Changing my mind even harder. Insight is brilliant, and for me, very necessary in the process of change, but there is still the muscle memory to build of inhabiting the insight.
Buddhist therapist guy also mentioned finding a new definition of adulting -- that surfing provides another model of what it means to adult. It's not knowing everything or doing everything right or having a plan, being IN CHARGE. But being ready for whatever life brings. On the ocean, I am developing skills for being ready for whatever she brings. On land, I am beginning to internalize -- really feel in my body -- the sense that I can handle whatever comes. That whatever decision I make is a decision and "right" or "wrong" are not useful words to characterize that decision. Every decision I have ever made has had positive, negative, and neutral outcomes, and I have dealt with them. This will be no different. I can rest in the comfort of knowing that I have only good decisions now -- only lovely choices, if I take a minute and really notice what's happening.
I know I can't know. I know I'm not in control of most things, except my own responses to what life brings me. On the water, this makes me happy. This brings me peace. This is fully accepted reality -- no questions, no resistance, just joy. I'm not sure where I got the idea that it's different on land. I'm only beginning to touch the space where these ideas will bring me peace on land as well as in the water. I can sense it when I imagine myself on my surfboard, delighting in the blue. Watching the little fish below me. Conversing with a pelican. Practicing sitting on top of my surfboard. The cool of the water caressing my face as I fall in, giggling. Enjoying every moment while keeping an eye on the horizon for the next wave. Waiting for the phone to ring.
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