I’ve stirred some puddles in life. Not a lot, but a few.
I’ve also let a lot of them lie still, un-muddled by my step, my voice.
For most of my life, I perfected my dive: entering the water with the tiniest splash, unwilling to disrupt a still surface, even if the water had grown stale and needed stirring.
I dreamed of a boat with a big sail, fully raised and racing out of the bay. But most of the time, I have been content with a second-hand canoe – sitting low in the water, gliding along unnoticed. Choosing the path of least resistance, dependent upon a partner, a set of circumstances, to keep me on a straight and forward path.
I’ve pacified and stood aside for years as a relationship hurt me, choosing to internalize rather than fight.
And then one day, I did.
That caused a lot of waves, some hit shore hard. But in the end, it was a choice. Waves that I knew would come, consequences I knew would arrive. And I chose to do it anyway.
Other times, I’ve searched for the nearest life boat to get out of the way. Closed my eyes to the waves buffeting me to and fro. Putting on a set of headphones to avoid the noisy lap of their break against my ankles. Chosen not to see the murk around me, a murk that I could change with just a little splash.
And other times still, I have shoved my boat out to water, with intent and anger and right on my side.
Sometimes, it was smooth sailing, with other boats giving way to my path. More often, my boat would lose a sail, or even capsize. I would admit defeat, retreat. Pull down what was left of my once-billowing arsenal of self-confidence and stay in harbor as I rebuilt.
Sometimes, the hardest part about making waves is to not make them, to not disturb the surface. To know when you must move on to a bigger lake. Or even a smaller, different one.
I’m learning, slowly, what waves to make, and what surfaces to let lie. To choose the most important puddles to jump into, to save energy for the best and not just the good.
There are only so many waves one person can ride. Maybe the best wave us the one that inspires others to make their own.
This essay was inspired by the “Make Waves” essay contest, hosted by Jenn at Near Far Montana. Click here to read how Jenn is making waves, and to check out the other wave-making entries.
Ooh, this is an excellent point about knowing when to let certain surfaces lie. While making waves (and stirring puddles!) can create a phenomenal impact, wisdom is sometimes knowing when it isn’t the best battle to fight or it isn’t worth it in the long run.
Isn’t that so true? I love initiating change … but some times it’s just not the right time or place.
Beautifully written, Abbigail.
This line really resonated with me – “Waves that I knew would come, consequences I knew would arrive. And I chose to do it anyway.” I love how powerful that is. Knowing that rocky shores may be just ahead, but forging through anyway – the epitome of courage, I’d say.
Thank you so much, Allie! You make me feel braver than I was when I made that decision. You, distance, and time, of course. :)
“Sometimes, the hardest part about making waves is to not make them, to not disturb the surface. To know when you must move on to a bigger lake. Or even a smaller, different one.”
AH, yes! So wonderfully stated. Such a lovely reminder.
Thank you, Erika! And thank you for hosting!
Hi there! Stopping by from the Make Waves contest — I love your perspective in this essay, and your writing is simply beautiful. I have a hard time knowing which surfaces to leave alone… this post was a needed reminder. Lovely!
Hi Caitlin – thanks for stopping by, and for the kind words! I’m tracking down your essay now to read it!
The other ladies beat me to it, but I agree completely on learning when it’s best to let things lie and when you need to rock the boat. I think it’s a sign of maturity when you can navigate those waters, but it’s always a learning experience!