Today I quit surfing. I first really learned to surf in Sri Lanka a few years ago, and enjoyed it, but since then it’s definitely become something I’ve had to coax myself into (not helped by English oceans and weather). I’m not sure why it took me so long to realise it wasn’t actually something I liked doing anymore, but I realised last night, as I was unable to sleep at the prospect of a dawn surf in growing swell, that I just didn’t want to go. Even after the best surfs, I felt no better than after a regular yoga session, and the yoga was a lot warmer and safer (one too many friends with bad concussions the last couple of years).
Whether I surf or not makes no difference to you, but it is a reminder that we sometimes attach our identities to external things – what we do, what we look like, who we’re connected with, and sometimes that can stop us from letting go of things which no longer serve us, or that don’t make us happy anymore. I liked the idea of being a surfer, but I’m more than OK with just being me.
P.S. Anyone want to buy a pretty board?!