Finding My Way Back to Joy

“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” ― Jon Kabat-Zinn

Life is like surfing, an energetic exchange between us and the universe. It’s not entirely active — solely determined by us and our individual human will — nor is it an entirely passive experience that the universe manifests for us. It’s a mix of both.

I say this as a person whose surfing experience is limited to the Web. :)

Universal currents offer us waves of opportunity —with both momentum and direction — and we choose our responses to them. We can either work with them or struggle vainly and futilely against them.

Kelly Slater and his high-tech wave pool aside, we humans cannot create waves. Sometimes no matter how much we want to experience forward motion in the manifestation of our destiny, there’s not a wave in sight and no matter how hard we paddle, surfing just isn’t going to happen.

Other times the waves seem to come in never-ending, disorienting sets. We get pulled under, feeling like we’re drowning, or end up ejected onto the beach, choking with sand in our lungs, asking ourselves whether it’s all really worth it.

Our opportunity in life is to become better and better at sensing and reading the universal currents around us, taking action when the right waves come along. And to get back in the water and try again when life’s waves give us a good thrashing.

Lately I feel like I’ve been living in the impact zone of the universal sea. Massive waves of transformation crashing down on me one after another, over and over again in a scary, never-ending, Mavericks-Competition-worthy set.

I keep getting dragged down by these powerful currents to the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean that is my soul. Starved for light and breath for what seems like an eternity only to be returned to the surface for a brief instant to gasp for air and glimpse the sun before receiving the next wave hit and repeating the cycle.

Drowning in wave after wave of shadow emotions wondering if I’ll ever live in the light again.

Struggling just to survive the experience.

Feeling exhausted at a soul level, entirely disconnected from joy.

Over the past week, I’m happy to report that the sea of me has calmed. Instead of thrashing and struggling, I feel like I’m floating and relaxing, letting the universal sea hold me.

Being quiet.

Breathing deeply.

Giving my heart, my soul and my physical being time to recover and regain strength.

I honestly haven’t had the energy to do much of anything beyond that. And that’s ok.

Not that I haven’t tried to do more. I’ve noticed myself creating my own energetic wave cycle as I try to bounce back from my time in the impact zone of self-discovery. Experiencing surges of energy followed by intense crashes as I’ve attempted to engineer a speedy recovery and propel myself forward out of this period of transformation back to the joyful sea of tranquility.

I find myself trying to rapidly process and integrate my experience and failing due to lack of energy. I keep trying to reconnect to the joy within but feel depleted and numb.

Instead of giving myself time to recover, I’ve been trying to hop right back up on my metaphorical surf board and catch the next wave to advance my heroine’s journey.

Honestly, transformation is hard. It takes more time and energy — more courage and resilience — than we acknowledge to ourselves or the world. And it takes time to complete each cycle, to process and integrate the learnings and get our bearings again.

Right now, the only thing for me to do is to breathe, to be with what is and to practice self-love and compassion.

No striving or trying.

No doing.

Just being.

This is an uncomfortable place for me to be given my familial programming. But with time and practice — lots and lots of practice — I’m learning to surrender and allow the process to unfold as it’s meant to rather than to drive it to a particular conclusion at a pace of my own choosing.

In this space of quiet contemplation, I’ve been getting curious about joy. Wondering about the way back to that state of being that I try to live in but find myself currently disconnected from.

My attempts to accelerate my return to joy during this period of calm have fallen flat. I’m discovering that the way back involves a slower process of curious exploration. A practice I call following the resonance.

As I go about my day, I notice what resonates — what brings me even a hint of joy — and I do that. If it continues to resonate, I do more of it.

So far today this has involved watching a sweet musical love-fest between Sam Smith and James Corden on an episode of Carpool Karaoke, taking a walk in the unexpected sunshine at Doran Beach during a break in the rainstorms, and listening to my Russian Blues purring around me as I type this piece.

I’m learning not to expect big things from myself right now because frankly, I’m too tired and depleted for big things — big actions, big insights, big decisions…all the big things.

The way back to joy for me lies in the enjoyment of little things.

I’ve relaxed the high-performance expectations I normally place on myself and am following these small, resonant sensations — these micro-moments of joy — enjoying and embracing them without judgement as to their meaning or importance.

I’m also being curious about dissonance I experience as it also contains seeds of wisdom. Sometimes dissonance means that something’s just not for me. Other times, it presents us with an opportunity for growth. A challenge we can choose to accept when and if we’re ready.

Right now, I’m not ready for anything more challenging than continuing to float and breathe and curiously follow the resonance.

And that’s ok.

If you’d like support on your journey of becoming—of finding the joy and aliveness within—please book a curious conversation to explore how the Vulnerability Doula can be of service to you.