“If you don’t become the ocean, you’ll be seasick every day.” -Leonard Cohen
I once saw a video of a dramatic surf rescue in Hawaii. The man at risk of drowning was right off the shore, in the same sort of place most of us have stood at the beach. It looked perfectly safe.
But the current that day was incredibly powerful. It kept pulling the man under, holding him there for an uncomfortably long time. I didn’t want to watch the rest of the video, afraid of what might happen. Thankfully, an Australian pro surfer was also on the beach that day. He was able to read the current and dive in at just the right moment to rescue the struggling swimmer.
Time is like the ocean: beautiful, yes, but also powerful and unpredictable.
Those who make their living on the water—fishermen, sailors, surfers—quickly learn that the ocean demands respect. You don't negotiate with currents or tides. You work with or around them, never against.
When it comes to the ocean, there is no "ocean management." There are no ocean tricks you can use to alter the currents. To succeed in the water, you learn to play by its rules. It was around long before us, and will be here long after we’re gone.
But people say "time management" all the time, as though the right system could hold back the tide. Guess what, it can't! Time keeps moving at the same pace no matter how we try to master it.
We get into trouble when we mistake something powerful for something we can control.

One more thing about the ocean: you can appreciate it without trying to change the laws of nature. In fact, its great power is part of its beauty.
The quote from Leonard Cohen at the beginning of this post puts it well: “If you don’t become the ocean, you’ll be seasick every day.”
Being seasick is no fun, but this suggestion also points to an alternative. To become the ocean, as Cohen said—or at least to become more like it—is much better.
It’s only when we fight the ocean that we’re powerless. Time works the same way. You can’t slow it down or make more of it, but you can stop struggling against it and move with it. That’s the difference between drowning and surfing.


This is why I’m sitting still. I had to learn that the hard way.
A beautiful piece. Thank you