Courage to leave the shore

When I told my friends I’m going kayaking at Manly Beach with the ferries and yachts (despite the fact I’ve never done it before, won’t even call myself a swimmer, and fear I’ll drown in the Great Ocean) they looked at me like I was crazy.

It didn’t sink in just how crazy I really was until I was standing at the Manly Beach pier strapped to my life jacket (tight!). We were given very brief instructions, and off we went with our paddles into what I thought were flimsy looking open canoes. I was already preparing myself to be toppled out of them into the great ocean. We were told to stay clear from the ferries, as they would not be able to stop in time for us, and to keep away from getting too close to the reefs in case we get stuck or scatched. I’ve also been told the Great White Sharks hang out there too. Nice.

When I first got into the open double-kayak, it was rocking unbelievably. I was happy to just hang around paddling in the coastline, but my co-kyak-pilot Linus headed straight for the open waters, at what I thought was seemingly high speeds while I was still trying to figure out how to turn and stop with my paddle.

Thankfully Linus had paddled before, and who turned out to be a great kayaker. I started to feel safe in her capable hands as we ventured out amongst the sail boats towards the islands.

My reluctant self was left behind at the shoreline, as I grew more confident in the waters and in the kayak. I could even waddle around in the kayak, stretching out lazily as the waves carried us. I still remember the feeling of floating along in the Great Ocean, with my feet hanging over the boat dipped into the water, the sea breeze through my hair and the sun shining over us (though, I eventually received a severe sunburn on my legs!). The freedom to sail whereever we wanted to go, and for the first time in my life, feeling so close to the Great Ocean, and so comfortable in its embrace. It was an incredibly liberating feeling.

Linus and I were having so much fun, we stayed in the kayak while others explored the island. We eventually did park at the island, and the water was amazingly clear. It was beautiful and untainted by the artificial pollutions we humans love to create.

Upon our return to the pier, I felt the solid ground beneath my feet. It took me a few moments to adjust again to the stability of the earth, instead of the flowing of the water. We went kyaking for two hours, and in that time, I had transformed my nervousness to confidence.

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Now isn’t that a lot like the horizons we come across in life?

When faced with change, we may shy away from trying something new. We want to remain in our comfort zone, where we can huddle in our security blankets of certainty and stability. We are scared of the unknown, we are afraid of losing what we already have. We justify it to ourselves, “Why fix what ain’t broke?” or “The grass is not greener on the otherside – it could be worse!” We want to keep paddling around the coast, and dismiss the need to go any further.

Yet paradoxically, it is precisely the courage to take that first step into the unknown, and all subsequent steps thereafter, that the knowledge and confidence is gained to allow us to make this unknown into what is known and ‘comfortable’ to us. I can think of dozens of examples in my life where I took the risks into the unknown, gave it everything I got – some hurdles easier than others – and now everytime I need to revisit similar hurdles, it is much easier and better managed.

It is this fearlessness that separates the amazing and the mediocre, and allows you to perform at your ultimate.

When there is an absense of fear – not reckless indifference for consenquence – you can truly put your ego aside, and not be trapped by anxiety, stress or embarrasment. You can cast aside the restraints of past and future, to be present to the present moment, thus allowing you your full attention to deal with the uncertainty of the situation.

Truly, you cannot discover new oceans if you don’t have the courage to lose sight of the shore.