It was high tide.
And we were on a bangka (boat) heading towards Apo Island to swim with the giant turtles.
As Atomic Kitten sang, “the tide is high but I’m holding on,” I was holding on for dear life, my fists clenched white-knuckled around one of the bangka’s posts as the boat bounced on the waves and sea salt sprayed us.
I was so nervous because of the speed, the bumpy movement of the boat, the waves crashing around us, and the dark blue depths of the water.
And then I remembered. I could choose to spend this entire 30-minute boat ride in a state of anxiety and nervousness. Or I could choose to enjoy this beautiful cloud-free day being out in the water.
I took a few deep breaths. I did a quick survey to see that the boat was safe and well-maintained with its fresh coat of paint and sturdy rope knots. With that, I was able to literally find joy in the journey. I inhaled the sea breeze and laughed when the water splashed my face and drenched my clothes. I reveled in the sheer pleasure of being out on the sea on a gorgeous day.
I noticed recently how easily anxious (or as they say, nerbiyosa) I get when doing something new or trying something different. This feels so different from when I was younger when I would excitedly line up for roller coaster rides, spontaneously travel alone around Europe, or make cold calls to future clients or customers.
But here’s the one small thing that changed my life. It’s my daily meditation practice. I sit with my breath for 10 to 15 minutes every weekday morning.
My meditation practice is FAR perfect despite doing it for years. More often than not, my mind wanders and I’m thinking about my to-do list, conversations with friends, and worries. I have to constantly remind myself to bring my attention back to my breath. And most days, I start meditating only AFTER I have scrolled through Instagram and Google News.
Despite my imperfect practice, meditation has given me the gift of awareness: to notice my thoughts and intentionally choose how I want to respond to the situation. I no longer feel like a victim of my moods and my thoughts. Instead, I can ask myself—is this thought or action serving me or others? Is this how I want show up? Is this the energy I want to share with the world?
I don’t always get it right, of course.
But on a sunny summer day, on the way to swim alongside giant turtles and marvel at insanely beautiful coral reefs, I managed to do the right thing.
