Once upon a time, there was a tall man out at sea. A man with broad shoulders and a mind of his own, who had weathered many a storm in life.
He was not afraid of going under. Down in the dark trough of the waves, he knew his way around — down there in the shadows, he knew how to endure.
What was foreign to him was the light all the way up on the crest.
He knew nothing else. Every time a great, luminous wave wanted to lift him up into the open, his whole body tensed. With all his strength he pushed against it, made himself heavy, and pulled himself back down into the gray water. He fought against his own rise, just to stay down where everything was familiar to him.
That morning, another wide, bright swell rolled in. As the water lifted him, he was about to brace himself again and push downward. Yet right in the middle of the motion, he paused. Suddenly he noticed how hard he was working — how much effort it cost him every single time to hold himself down and force himself back into the dark.
Then it grew quiet inside him. He understood: just as he had pushed himself down for a lifetime, he was also allowed to let things be good for himself. And the good required no fight at all. The sea demanded no force from him. It had wanted to carry him all along.
For the first time, the man stopped pushing. He unclenched his fists. He let the stiffness leave his knees and the heaviness drop from his shoulders.
Without stomping, without straining, and without any effort at all, he simply stood upright and gave his weight over to the swell. And the less force he used, the lighter the movement became.
He stood free in the open sunlight — not because he had conquered the wave, but because he finally allowed himself to glide gently upon it.
By René Jochum - LLM Translated. License: CC-BY-4.0.