In a recent article I was writing for a magazine issue that will come out in May (I will keep you posted once it’s released!) I commented on the ways I try to remember that life will always come in waves. I wrote:
“As [Phoenix] bobs in the water she reminds me that a boat can’t sail in flat, calm water. For us to move forward we need the wind, and the wind creates waves. The ups and downs of the waves that the universe serves us are all a necessary part of life, and the only way to make sailing through them easier is experience behind the helm. So as I ride out the trough of the wave I remind myself the only way to get to the crest is to keep going.”
I’ve been thinking about this reminder quite a bit this week, and what these waves of life may look like. Though a topic like this can be continuously explored (and the metaphors endless) there are two main types of waves that I can relate the ups and downs of life to.
First, there are the waves that happen throughout my day. I relate these ups and downs to the waves I have experienced on my home waters of Lake Champlain. On a day where there is no wind, the lake will remain calm, with only boat wake (champ wake?) to disturb the water. However, once the wind begins to come up it aggravates the surface.
Often, on sailing charters that I Captain, I will tell the guests that the lake has many different moods. Some days she’s feeling relaxed, peaceful and slow. Other days she may feel excited, maybe a little sassy, she may throw some spray up to kiss our faces. Yet other days she is angry, and on angry days I don’t bring guests out, because she can become unpredictable and aggressive. The state of the lake is immediately correlated to the wind. After a storm blows through it may take her a minute to calm down, but you will never have an angry lake with no wind.
The waves that affect me throughout the day are like the waves on Lake Champlain. They are very much correlated with my mood. Regardless of what I have going on, if my mood is up I feel like I’m at the crest. A negative interaction or a stressful situation can knock me right off the top, and into the trough.
There is also a different type of wave. Unlike the lake, on the ocean you may have swell when there is no wind. This swell may come from winds that are hundreds or thousands of miles away. These waves may feel very different than the short chop of lake waves. The period is much longer, which means that on a boat you may slowly rise up to the crest and gently loll down to the trough. Depending on the height of the wave you may hardly notice that you’re moving – that is until you go below to make a sandwich and find yourself slightly seasick.
In life these translate to the waves that may last days, weeks or even months. You may be highly aware of them, or they may be more subtle; you may not notice them until looking backwards. I’ve had stretches where I feel like I’m on top of the world. My space is clean, I’m getting things done, I feel like I’m pouring into my own cup to the point where it’s overflowing. Similarly, of course, there are the troughs of the wave, where my cup is depleted, and everything feels more difficult.
What I find interesting about the ups and downs of life is how difficult it becomes to remind yourself of them. How when you’re at the top you may think “this is so easy, why don’t I just allow myself to be like this all the time”. And once you’re back in the trough you may think “this is just life forever”. These feelings are not uniquely mine, and I know that. I know that so many people (likely everyone) experiences some version of these waves, and many other types of waves as well. This is why I’m writing about it, as a reminder to myself but also to others that these waves exist – life is not linear, and all is temporary.