Discerning Our Waves

It was June, maybe July—one of those summer days when months, moths, and fireflies swirl together like heat rising from rusted car tops or cement paved by heavenly shave ice joints.

I was living on the east side of Hawai’i island then, having recently moved up from the south, and I had just wrapped up a semester teaching a dual degree course at Hilo High and Kea’au High.

I didn’t quite know what would come next—in life or in work—but I was open. I was willing.

Then, seemingly all at once, three remarkable opportunities materialized—each carrying a swell of potential to shape my path in a markedly different direction.

Grateful for the gifts, but confounded by the choice, I was at a standstill about how to move forward.

Each path carried its own rippling repercussions, and I couldn’t, for the life of me, seem to gather the perspective I needed to come to a clear decision.

And so, I did what I often do when I’m deeply in need of clarity.

I turned to nature.

This time, I went to the water.

I had been getting into surfing pretty consistently around this time. And though I was a novice through and through, I was undeniably drawn to the subtle (and sometimes, not-so-subtle) lessons the blending of fiberglass and saltwater offered me each time I was granted permission to step into the ocean.

That day, I paddled out, tugging my countless questions alongside me—my mind rumbling as I thunderously tumbled through wave after wave, my thoughts more restless than the current of Hilo Bay itself.

As for my surfing? Well, kindly put, it was disastrous.

A promising wave would appear, I’d paddle hard, try my best to catch it, only to miss it completely.

Another one would rise—I’d push with all my might—only for it to slip right past me.

The frustration built. My timing was off.

My center, gone. No part of me was present.

So, I stopped. I paused.

I took a breath and sat back, feeling the ocean that held me.

Noticing the world around me.

I stopped chasing, and I started watching.

Observing the hues of blue that would swell through to lighter shades as each wave built, crested, and culminated in a dance of form, function, and flourishing froth.

I felt the water below, around, and upon me.

I felt my way back to myself.

And in that stillness, a wisdom emerged.

One that I certainly cannot take credit for, but am ever grateful for:

There were plenty of seemingly stunning waves splaying throughout the entire ocean before me.

Yet, clearly, not every one of them was the one for me.

Instead of forcing motion where it wasn’t meant to be, I could choose something else—I could choose presence. I could choose peace.

I could let them pass, and wait—with both patience and poise—for the wave that is meant for me.

So much of life—especially in seasons of uncertainty—feels like a race to catch the next best thing.

We’re told to seize every opportunity, to paddle harder, to push more, to cry “Yes!” before the wave disappears.

But what if discernment is just as vital as ambition?

What if knowing when to let a wave pass is just as wise as knowing when to ride?

Not every great opportunity is meant for us.

Not every shiny thing needs to be pursued.

Not every door that opens is the one we need to walk through.

There is a quiet liberation in realizing this.

Some waves belong to others. Some waves lead to places we’re not meant to go.

Some waves look perfect from afar but, up close, would only knock us off balance.

And so, we return to trust.

Trusting ourselves as we learn to recognize when a wave truly is meant for us.

For when the right wave comes, we’ll feel it. We’ll know it.

We’ll be poised enough to move, prepared enough to ride, and aligned enough to embrace the experience that’s been building just for us.

As I let that lesson sink in, I smiled that smile—the kind that comes when you’ve been humbled by something greater, grander, and undoubtedly more gracious than you.

Thanking the water in a soft, silent prayer, I took a deep, relieving breath, and gazed again at the horizon.

I watched wave after wave—some seemingly pristine—build and break over and over, until I felt, until I knew.

It was my time to turn and paddle.

And not a moment later, did my wave appear—the one meant for me.

And with every charged cell in my soul, I paddled swiftly, popped smoothly, and rode the bliss as far as I could, until it was time to dip back into the water and do it all over again.

Reflections for Growth

• The Waves You’ve Chased: Think of a time when you pursued an opportunity, a path, or a relationship simply because it looked promising. In hindsight, how could you know if it was the right wave for you?

• The Wisdom of Waiting: Where in your life do you feel pressured to catch a wave right now? How might it feel to pause, observe, and trust that the right opportunity will come in its own time?

• Recognizing Your Wave: What are the signs that tell you when something is truly yours? How do you know when a decision, path, or calling is aligned with your deepest truth?

Invitations for Practice

• The Art of Observing: For one day, practice not rushing into decisions. When opportunities, requests, or choices arise, pause. Observe. Ask yourself: Is this my wave? Or am I chasing out of habit, pressure, or fear?

• Releasing the “Should’s: Notice where in your life you feel the pressure of I should go for this, I should say yes, I should take this chance. Challenge yourself to replace should with is this truly mine?

• Intuiting Alignment: If you have a big decision ahead, take it to a place where you feel most at peace—the ocean, the forest, a quiet corner of your home. Let the noise settle. Ask yourself: Is this wave mine? Then, listen.

Special Gift: Just For You

Discernment isn’t just about waiting—it’s about being ready when the moment arrives.

As a special gift for subscribing to Weaving Wisdoms, I’d love to gift you my From Patience to Poise Guide—a resource to help you deepen your ability to cultivate clarity and ride life’s waves with wisdom & intention.

Download Your Free Guide Here

As you practice, please jot down your thoughts and experiences. And as always, feel free to share your reflections directly with me.

With trust in the tides,

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