His name was Josea and he was going to teach me how to surf.
It was my last day in Puerto Escondido and my first lesson. After my friends Ban and Alex convinced me through some very subtle but well-meaning manipulation tactics – are you going to face your fears? – I told them to sign me up.
Right up until the lesson, I was picturing myself falling off and getting scraped up against a rock, postponing my flight home another week while I recovered in a small and humid hospital. But I couldn’t back out or my pride would take an even harder hit. So the morning of the lesson, I shuffled into the taxi with the boys and off we went.
Coral beach was beautiful, a breathtaking cove with aquamarine water that kissed the clear blue sky. Plenty of surfers of all levels were already out, speckling the sea with their vibrant suits and boards, appearing to be injury-free and enjoying themselves.
Saul, the head instructor, was an incredibly tanned man with dark hair that fell to his shoulders who vaguely looked like he lived on the beach. He drew an oval shape in the sand and told me to lay on my stomach inside of it. He showed me how to bend my leg and push off the “board” so that I could catch the wave at the perfect time, getting into a low crouch with one arm out front.
Now try it. Ahora pruebas. Uno, dos, tres!
I stood up quickly and struck the surfer position.
Bien. Otra vez.
I got back down on my sand board.
Uno, dos, tres!
I stood up again. Posed.
He nodded and passed me off to Josea, an equally tanned man who couldn’t have been over 22. He asked if I preferred English or Spanish, but I could tell that English would have been a struggle. I would learn to surf in Spanish.
I got into position as he stood behind my board, waiting to push me into the perfect wave.
Lista? Ahora!
I stood up for two seconds, panicked and crashed back into the water. I looked back at Josea. He was smiling as if he’d expected that. I paddled towards the shore and back around to the starting point, in a semicircle, keeping myself out of the way of the other surfers.
When I got back to Josea, he gave me his first piece of advice.
Lesson 1: Look straight ahead and focus.
As you stand up, choose a point on the beach and keep your gaze there. Just focus on where you’re going.
I smiled. Wise, this surfer boy.
After a few more attempts and watery tumbles, he told me what I was missing.
Lesson 2: You have to find your balance.
As soon as the wave comes in, it’s your responsibility to find stillness in the commotion.
Was the double meaning intentional or pure coincidence? I couldn’t help but feel like his medicinal words were something I needed to remember in my everyday life. This felt like surfing with a side of self-help. Maybe the two fields intersected quite nicely.
As he pushed my board into an oncoming wave, I gracefully stood up, found my balance, and looked straight ahead over my extended hand. Suddenly, I was flying, cruising calmly towards the beach.
An electric thrill rippled across my stomach. I love this, I immediately thought.
I jumped off just before the water became too shallow and looked back at Josea. He gave me a big grin and a thumbs up. Eeeee!
I climbed back on my board and started the trek back out to the water. It was exhausting, dipping my arms into the sea like oars, relying all on the upper body to get me where I was going, bobbing up and down against the current, and turning parallel to the bigger waves so as not to get booted off.
When I finally reached Josea, I was out of breath. Seeing this, he gave me lesson number three.
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Lesson 3: Paddling back in is the hardest part.
Sure, standing up and finding your footing is tricky, but it’s the journey back to the start after a courageous tumble or successful run that really consumes your energy. You have to put in the work if you want the glory.
I had several more triumphant glides toward the beach, paddling back in with a giddy desire to do it all over again.
Then, I started to fall. And fall. And fall all over. Hello ocean. Meet face.
What happened? Josea asked me. You had it down.
I don’t know. Suddenly, I’m nervous.
Lesson 4: Relax.
When you’re too nervous, you can’t concentrate. You have to breathe and get out of your head. Don’t overthink it. Just relax and focus.
He pushed me into another wave and I stood, finding my footing, but something was coming towards me on the left. Another surfer, I looked towards her and immediately fell off my board.
After I arrived back at Josea, I asked him what to do about the others. What if one of them crashes into me or we’re surfing too close together?
Lesson 5: Don’t worry about the other people.
You can’t be looking to the left and right and behind you to see what everyone else is doing. You can’t control where they go and what they do. Your job is to focus on you, where you’re going and what you’re doing.
I rode several more waves without trouble before the lesson was over, willing it to go on longer.
Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, but that sensation of gliding across the water had given me a feeling of invincibility.
As I arrived back on the beach to meet my friends, my enthusiasm paraded out of me, dancing in a circle around me, escaping in delighted squeals.
That was so much FUN! I exclaimed, cracking open a Corona as I parked my bum in the sand in between my friends Alex and Ban.
See? You should feel like this every day my friend, Ban said.
Ban and Josea, casually speaking in wise, thought-provoking prose.
Reminding me to face my fears and chase the feeling of fun. To find my balance, focus on where I’m headed, relax. Don’t worry so much about what everyone else is doing. And remember, you’ve got to put in the work if you want the glory.
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