#35: For the sake of it 🌊

self-discovery through sucking at something

The early morning sun rays seeped into our tent beckoning us to venture out of our synthetic shelter and into nature’s playground. After crawling over my two fellow campers and inadvertently waking them up, we collectively yawned and approached our wetsuits, still damp from the previous day’s sunset surf. It was only a five minute walk from our campsite up on the cliffs down to Carlsbad State Beach, but it was enough time to run through the rolodex of every possible human emotion. The dread from having to squeeze into a moist wetsuit just to plunge into frigid morning waters. The nirvana from watching the sunrise as we surfed the glassy waters of California. Actually, I shouldn’t say “surfed”. It was the last day of our week-long surf and camp trip and even after paddling out three times per day, I still hadn’t caught a single wave.

I ask myself, why did I keep trying? Why was I willing to deal with the hassle of getting ready and the frustration of failing to catch a wave over and over again? After all, paddling out without any waves to reap is like baking a triple-layer chocolate cake just to chuck it out the window. My relentlessness at being terrible in surfing persisted. When I got laid off a couple years later during the pandemic, I would drive three hours every weekend to surf 1 foot slop (in surfer talk: trash conditions) with my friend (shoutout Kwak 🫰). Twelve weeks of anxiety-riddled job searching. Twelve Saturdays to catch a wave. I still couldn’t catch a damn wave. But there it was again: The juxtaposition of being embarrassingly bad, but gleefully excited to be back in the water every time.

As my trials and tribulations in surfing unfolded, I’m not sure why I kept trying during the first 25+ botched attempts. But here’s a wild idea: it’s possible to be terribly incompetent at something, but still genuinely love it. Maybe we should choose our hobbies based on authentic enjoyment rather than skill level. Easier said than done. Are you practicing your golf swing because you’re thrilled by the sport or because you want to schmooze your clients? Are you eating at a Michelin star restaurant because you’re obsessed with gastronomy or because you want your Instagram followers to see?

Nowadays, it’s harder for leisure time to be for unadulterated, childlike joy. Since we optimize our careers around the skills we can leverage for maximizing money and prestige, we risk over-professionalizing the rest of our lives. The dependency on society to pay us based on the value we provide defaults us to be extrinsically motivated. We rely on other people and the invisible hand to tell us what we should do. But that’s just for work (and only partially true).

Hobbies are the opposite. We shouldn’t look to others for guidance on something as vital as leisure. It’s fine to ask friends for movie recommendations or toothpaste endorsements, but seeking counsel in search of our true passions is futile. Discovering what stirs us alive is a rite of passage that can only be pursued in single player mode.

Now that I actually know how to surf, I can articulate why I do it. The ocean coaxes me into the deepest state of tranquility and connectedness that no therapist could ever come close to. Sitting on my board just outside where the waves break places me in the eye of my overthinking hurricane mind. But as the sets appear on the horizon, the opposite occurs. I sense my surroundings, paddle hard, and then pop-up. What was once a series of distinct steps has become one fluid stroke of intuition. My adrenal glands unload and invoke the flowiest of flow states. The rest of the world disappears, I tune out, and time slows down.

Figuring out who you are and what you care about is worth the arduous intentionality. At times it may feel like trying to navigate a shape-shifting cobblestone maze on a dinky scooter. After all those struggle sessions in Pacifica, I eventually ended up on the Big Island. Maybe it was the slower rolling waves in Hawaii, the warm waters freeing me of the constricting wetsuit, or simply enough brute force effort that led to my first wave. In that moment, everything clicked and I experienced the elevated, but cliché sensation of “feeling alive”. I briefly worried if this was the peak and I would be forever chasing that initial high. Fortunately, that hasn’t been the case. The more I improve, the more fun I have.

Since the breakthrough of catching my first wave, I’ve integrated surfing into my life. Sometimes I surf with friends to relax and catch the sunset from a vantage point that beats any five-star beachfront hotel. Other times I surf with a different, much more caffeinated mindset in pursuit of progression in performance. Pushing past the initial trough has even led to some pleasant surprises, like living in Hawaii for six months or this surf trip to Bali with two friends, where I’m at right now.

If there’s something you’re bad at, but for some reason you keep coming back to it, follow that breadcrumb trail. Even if you don’t know why you’re back for more, stay on that scent like a bloodhound. You might be onto something. You might be discovering part of yourself. Pay attention to what you genuinely love to do, even if you're not great at it... yet. It’s worth it.

Thanks to Türker Bulut, Chris Wong, Vincent Tam, and Wes Lambert for reviewing earlier versions of this essay!