Surfers and Swimmers

I've identified an interesting tension that exists in our lives and, unlike other issues that I explore on this site, it's not something I think I've figured out. In fact, I don't even know how to begin with it, but more on that in a minute.

Let me sketch out ideas of two separate philosophies by stretching a nautical analogy that I am calling 'surfers versus swimmers'. You'll soon notice they are entirely artificial constructs, but using these distinctions can strip a complex topic down to the core principles that help us come to terms with the nuanced and complex situations we encounter every day.

Surfers sit out in the water, patiently waiting for the next wave. When the conditions are right, they can spend hours harnessing the energy of these entirely natural and cyclical tidal movements: surfers go with the flow. They are happy to wait for moments to arrive because they know that they will and that they'll be able to get where they need to go. They don't try to force things. No person can have even the slightest impact on the movements of the ocean, so they don't even bother. What's all this hurrying about anyway? Everything will work out fine in the end.

Swimmers see the water differently. For a swimmer, the water is a challenge. It is there to be traversed. Swimmers do not wait for waves, because they are proactive. They have goals and targets that only they will transform into reality. Out on the water, powerful forces pull tides in and out. In a world where you are utterly insignificant, swimmers need to take responsibility for themselves.

I've always admired the surfer mentality. Trusting that things will work out can have a powerful effect on a person's decision-making. It can make you bolder and more flexible.

That wave might not have been great, but hey, the next one's almost here.

Maybe I fell off my board that time, but I'm still here to laugh about it and I'm ready to try again.

This wind isn't perfect, but I'm prepared to get out there and try anyway.

It seems like a great attitude to have because it is. However if not managed correctly, it could easily become indistinguishable from complacence. What if things actually don't act work out? What if I'm waiting around for a wave that never comes? Why am I expecting the universe to hand me the things I need?

Swimmers dive in and drag themselves through the water by sheer determination. They bend the universe to their will. They wait for nothing and nobody because waiting never took anyone closer to anything. But just like surfing, following this path to its logical conclusion is problematic. Swimming against the current quickly gets tiring and isolating. Rejecting the idea of constraints displays a level of resistance to an external environment that can indicate inflexibility and fear. What if you swim harder and harder and the current pulls you back anyway? When your whole identity is predicated on achieving success, what happens when you fail? And who even decides what success looks like?

With this analogy we are analysing the advantages and disadvantages of living proactive versus reactive lives. I find myself identifying, in typical type-A fashion, with the swimmers, while looking on admiring the restraint and calm of those who let events wash over them and take life as it comes. But even if we decide that we want to change these behaviours, how do we begin doing that? Where is the right balance and how do we achieve it?

There's some really difficult material for us all to process here. If you relate to any of the ideas that I've raised, I'd really like to hear your thoughts: if you identify as a surfer or a swimmer, please explain why. By sharing your ideas and thoughts you can help us all. You can now leave comments below articles on the site simply by clicking the comment button just below this post.

The 'No' Muscle

I recently wrote about the importance of sharpening your tools. At its core it was an abstract set of hints and suggestions as to how everyone can develop strategies for dealing with the difficult emotions that we experience in our lives.

One of the tools I've been honing lately is what I have identified as the 'no' muscle. As members of a Western society, every day we are presented with an infinite amount of choices. And boy, do we love choices. Choosing makes us powerful, the masters of own own destiny. Whether it is choosing to be the one to put that last, lonely biscuit out of its misery or debating whether or not to pull the trigger on that pair of shoes we've had on our mind, we find ourselves in control of our own decisions.

In these sorts of situations, I've always found it easier to say yes. OK, I'll have that biscuit. Yeah, I'll go to the shoe store tomorrow. I've found saying no so difficult that lately I've decided to put in some practice.

During the last couple of weeks I've arrived at the office and decided then and there whether or not I'll eat any of the lollies sitting on the desk just around from me. The decision is instant and essentially arbitrary. And that's it. If it's a 'no' day, I try not to eat any. My record isn't perfect but I'd suggest that on half of those days I eat none and even on unsuccessful 'no' days I normally cave in just once.

The part of me that loves systematic approaches frowns upon this practice due to the sheer inconsistency of the whole experiment. But I think that this haphazard approach is what has made the process somewhat successful: it leaves no room for any crazy forms of intellectual bargaining that can go on in situations like this. I think, should I eat a lolly? No. That's it. Just no. Straight up, no questions asked, nothing. Just don't do it, man. If saying no was part of some grander strategy I could manufacture some justification, but this inflexible, crazy approach doesn't give me that.

The way I see it, I'm strengthening the 'no' muscle. The idea is that I'm starting small and developing the emotional and psychological capacity to refuse myself something for almost no reason other than to feel what it's like to refuse myself something. I generally experience a craving then a pang of mental resistance to the whole exercise. This sucks, those lollies are great, I want to eat one. Then I remember that it's no day, grab a couple of almonds and get back to what I was doing.

How often do you say no to yourself? I'm prepared to admit it's not that often for me. I have enough money, food and time, so very few things are excluded from my life other than by choice. That is a scary thought. Coming to terms with how no feels is important because being able to handle that builds a barrier to any form of unhealthy dependencies we might come across in our lives.

Looking Down

Many of the people you call your close friends now will not be a major part of your life in ten years time. I don't know why I even picked that time frame; it might not even take that long. People move on and life moves on, and as hard as we might resist the idea this is perfectly natural and entirely unavoidable. Every day of our lives we learn and grow, becoming newer and hopefully better versions of ourselves. And so just as these paths of growth can initially connect two people as friends, very few are able to run in parallel forever.

It is important to understand what role each person you know plays in your life, whether you have regular contact with them in real life or view them through the lens of social media. The idea of a person serving a function might seem coarse but we all choose to keep tabs on people for one reason or another and there is always some form of motivation in play. Recognising what these motivations are is the first step toward ensuring you are engaging with people for the right reasons.

We all know a few of people that aren't doing so well. They might have done some things that isolated them from others or perhaps they've even gotten you offside somehow. Like I already noted, the paths of two people can only run beside each other for so long before they begin to diverge as they run off into the distance. But the way that we manage this divergence tells us far more about ourselves than it does about the other person.

If you are keeping track of someone because you pity them or are using their difficulties as a reference point for your own life, you're maintaining contact for the wrong reasons. If you become aware that you are quietly hoping someone doesn't succeed so that you can use their failure to justify your own choices, be wary. If you are hoping someone else isn't happy because you yourself are not happy, something might be wrong. If you aren't prepared to help lift someone out of their difficulties and instead continue to watch them struggle, you need to consider cutting them off completely, for your own sake and theirs.

But mostly your own. We need to be around people who lift us up and whom we ourselves can lift up. Our own spite, pity, jealousy and schadenfreude are destructive forces that make us less significant people. We need to either help out or get out of the way of those who can and will. Any pleasure we think we derive from someone else's difficulties is an illusion. The idea that this judgement can genuinely reassure us is false, hollow and harmful.

Genuine strength of character does not grow out of this sort of reinforcement. We need to know within ourselves that we are making good choices for us and be honest about what those choices mean for our lives. Spending even one minute comparing your situation with someone else's is worse than a fool's errand: nothing can ever be gained and but so much is there to be lost.