Life on the Rocks

This weekend, my lovely wife Tanya and I took the opportunity to tour the highways and byways of New England. After a few days in New Hampshire, we headed east into Maine and eventually meandered south along the Atlantic coastline. Eventually, we happened upon the coastal community of Wells Beach.

In the offseason, some might think Wells Beach isn't much to behold. (They'd be right, of course.) When we arrived it was already past 9:00, and the town hadn't seemed to notice. We drove across the low bridge at high tide (always an adventure) and toward the ocean. We pulled into the deserted parking lot and parked in a spot overlooking the rocky beach below. It was cold outside, so we sat there for a few minutes watching the waves roll in as we sipped our coffee.

Something just didn't seem right, though. While it was great to see the ocean splayed out across the windshield in front of us, I felt detached from the entire scene. Sure, we were there - but we weren't really there. I decided that I needed the real deal.

"Let's go", I said quickly as I thrust open the car door.

I stood in the parking lot while my more sensible half donned her jacket and hat. The wind whipped around my face, but it felt good. It felt "real". I smiled a goofy smile (the only kind I have) and I walked around to meet her. We stood at a scenic landing and continued to watch the waves tumble and toss. I spied a concrete staircase to our right that led down to the rocky shore. I descended quickly, wanting to feel how cold the water must be. Tanya followed close behind.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, I dipped my hand into the salty water. As you'd expect, the water was freezing. (It's true. I'm a genius.) I looked up just in time to see Tanya leaping across the water to a patch of dry rocks between the ten foot concrete retaining wall and the frothy ocean. Not to be outdone, I hopped to her side.

We stared up into the clear sky, the sun shining directly into our faces. After several months of New England winter, the warm sun felt amazing. I took a deep breath, savoring the salty air. I had wanted the real deal, and now I had it. I haven't felt as fantastic and alive in a long, long time.

With my eyes still closed, I listened to the rolling waves. This was so much better than sitting in the car, I thought to myself. When I was up in the car, I didn't hear a thing. Now I could distinctly hear the waves getting louder and louder.

Hmmm. Louder?

I opened my eyes just as a very large wave came crashing in toward us. In my heightened state of awareness and newfound peace, I remember laughing to myself knowing that we had nowhere to go. A ten foot wall behind us, an oncoming icy wave headed directly for us, and no time to react. Nothing to do but smile and brace for the brunt of it.

The wave didn't disappoint. Water splashed up over the rocks toward our feet. How high would it go? Fortunately, the water receded quickly enough, and we assessed the damage. Wet shoes, socks, pantlegs - yep, I was officially soaked. Tanya fared only slightly better, but there were definitely moist slacks all around.

We laughed as we headed back up the steps before any real damage was done. After a bit of driving, I began to think about our fortunate misfortune.

I realized just how important it is to remember to live. I'm an achieving animal by nature, but all of that drive comes at a price at times. I don't know about you, but it's easy for me to get caught up in an endless stream of action items and takeaways. This beachy adventure was a welcome relief. And what of the consequences of putting myself in harm's way? Personally, I think the alternative is much more risky. While you're certain to take some lumps in the game of life, standing on the sidelines is worse. Safe is worse. Disengaged from real live-ing due to unconscious do-ing is much worse.

My advice to anyone interested: get out and enjoy life. (Even if that means standing on a rocky beach in the winter.) You may get wet, but you'll dry eventually. Whether living life leaves you soaked with tears of joy or tears of sorrow - trust me, you'll dry. We always do.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find some water wings. You never know when that next adventure will come calling.

Related Links

The scene of the crime
Test your knowledge of ocean waves
Be prepared
Hypothermia

Quote of the Week

"Of course there is no formula for success except perhaps an unconditional acceptance of life and what it brings."
- Arthur Rubinstein

Coaching Quickie: Life on the Rocks

Check back next week for results!

Last Week's Results

Coaching Quickie: Manual Dexterity
At what point would you call for help when fixing your proverbial toilet?

(36%) Right away. I take a look, assess the situation and then get some expert advice.
(64%) I jump in and if I end up over my head I call the experts.
(00%) I, glub, don’t need, glub, help. Everythings, glub, fine here. Situation, glub, normal.
(00%) Who me? Home repair? Forget it. My plumber is on speed dial.

If you missed it, you can read last week's newsletter online here.