“I looked around frantically for my son. When I spotted him, he was airborne.”
With two little grommets constantly in tow, my wife and I have developed a system: We take our surfs in shifts. We usually pull up to the sand; unload the camp; I make sure my wife and kids are comfortable; and then I paddle out for a few. About an hour later, it’s time for the shift change.
Last week, I was standing on the sand, carefully holding our 6-week-old daughter, hypnotically staring off into the horizon, when I heard my wife screaming from the shoreline as she came in from her shift. I immediately looked around for my son.
When I spotted him, he was airborne.
He had followed the lead of a couple local grommets (much older than him) and leaped from the top of the lifeguard tower. Mind you, the tower is easily double overhead on my two-year-old son, so the jump was pretty gnarly for him. My heart (and my wife’s) were in our throats for a moment.
Naturally, he was fine. He got a face full of sand, then was back on his feet, ready for another go. And he went… a few dozen more times.
This reminded of me of what it was like to be grommet on the sand again. It reminded of what it really means to charge. Where the concept of diving into something that you’re not entirely comfortable with all began, and how you either stood tall afterward with a smile, or you were carried to the ER by your buddy’s dad.
For me these days, I rarely feel like I charge. The closest I get is when I’m dangling over the side of the roof hanging Christmas lights. However, the ocean still gives it to me on occasion. I still get that good ol’ grommet feeling on days that are slightly above my comfort level. Not massive, but certainly not small. And I always seem to be under-gunned on days like these (I still can’t get myself to invest in a step-up that I’ll only use once or twice a year). Those are the days I feel like I can still charge. These sessions send the water draining from my nostrils and a surge of salty adrenaline through my soul. And it’s potent.
As my kids get older, I daydream about standing on the sand watching them in similar conditions… ready to charge. I can’t even imagine where my heart’ll be during moments like those. But I need to remember when I was twelve and would paddle out no matter what. My buddies and I would get pounded for hours until we’d stagger into the beach and see whose nose would drain the most water. Then we’d just run around in our wetsuits for the rest of the day.
Charging is a part of life. It’s healthy. And it can really be anything you want it to be. It could be walking into your boss’s office and demanding a raise; it could be getting down on one knee and asking the love of your life to marry you; it might even be getting on stage at Open Mic Night and doing your thing in front of a bunch of strangers. Charge it!
Whatever charging means to you, don’t ever lose it. It means you have guts, and it means you still have passion for living. Taking risks without certainty that it’ll pay out is what keeps each day interesting. I only hope that I can teach my kids to take advantage of the right times to charge, and when to walk away from the wrong ones. In the wise words of my Vietnamese Mother-in-Law sitting at the Blackjack table in Vegas, urging me to double-down: “Don’t be chicken!”
And that’s what Kai did that day. In his own little way, he charged it.
