FAILING

He walks over to me, smiles and says, “I haven’t seen you fall.”  Although I do not know him, his demeanor is friendly and I hear kindness in his voice.  Instantly I know, like most of the guys who ride remarkably, he is trying to teach me something.  This man, I would later learn, is a local legend. 

“I fall all the time!”  I proclaim, as I reply with a smile and a slightly defiant look.

“I haven’t seen you fall even once,” he persists.  He knows I have a lot more to give.  I know he is right.  I am not pushing myself.  I am being apprehensive.  So I begin to put effort into it and actually try.  I start to have a lot of fun and begin taking risks.  I run faster, I try to go farther and I try to stay on longer.  Sure enough, I am now flying off my board and I fall splat into the water.  I smash down into the sand, face first.  I stand up and, as I bend my head to the left and then to the right to stretch my neck, I assess I am OK.  I adjust my wetsuit jacket as I walk over to pick-up my board, and then I look over at him.  He is smiling again. 

I smile and humbly say to him, “Free sand exfoliation.”

He responds, apparently proud of my effort, “If you don’t fall, you’re not trying hard enough.”

This type of encouragement is one of the things I love about the skim community: they want you to succeed.  To succeed in this sport, though, you have to first fail.  You have to fall—a lot—to learn how to do it right. Just as in life and with relationships, you have to fail in order to succeed.  Why?  Because failing means you are trying; failing means you are learning.  When you learn from failure, you gain perspective and an understanding of what you can do better.  Failing also provides motivation to succeed.  Do you stop because you were not successful the first time, or do you get your ass back up and try again?

Let me be clear, when I talk about failing, I am talking about moments of failure.  Michael Jordan famously talks about how many times he failed, but he failed in making specific shots—he succeeded as the greatest basketball player.  Even in interpersonal relationships, when you learn from a moment of failure, you make the relationship more successful.  When you persevere through trials and improve yourself, you can relish in success.     

WHAT WAS I THINKING?!

Do you ever look back and wonder, “What was I thinking?”  I frequently amuse myself with the thought.  Sometimes, it is about something I have done.  Something that was, perhaps, not the wisest decision I could have made.  Other times, it is about something I wanted to have or wanted to do, but I could not have or did not get.  Reflecting back on these moments is not about playing Monday morning quarterback.  Rather, it is about living in the moment and recognizing I might not be on the path I had wanted, but I am on the path I need to be on.  It is as simple as it sounds.  What happened is over and done; and what did not happen, well, that moment is over and done too.   Did you really miss an opportunity to do something, or were you actually fortunate enough to have avoided it?  Whichever course I actively or passively decide to take, I will end-up where I need to be.  Though it might not always be where I want to be, it is where I am and, accordingly, exactly where I need to be.

It is easy to feed fear and dwell on analysis.  It is just as easy to feed fantasy and dwell on desire.  All that is needed, though, is a pause for reflection.  It is healthy to learn from our choices and understand our decisions.  It is not useful to live with regret, and it is not productive to live in the past or the future.  I am more peaceful when I remember, where I have been and where I am right now is my journey.  I might sprint straight ahead sometimes, and other times I might take a more circuitous path by going up, around and down.  Loved ones might provide a helping hand when I falter, companionship when I am lonely, encouragement when I am unsure and love whether I fail or succeed.  They will travel on various parts of my journey with me, but ultimately, I am responsible for making my journey—as it is.