Catch the next wave

After you've explored the June entries, we hope you leave with a little more hope, a little more perspective, and the courage to keep holding onto the rope. Then we hope you share your own wave, because every story matters and every ripple reaches someone. Peace to all—mind, body, and soul. ✌️

Written Waves: Getting Back Up

8:44 PM on 6-11-2026

Medical procedures can be expensive. For me, they can also be exhausting.

I am dyslexic. Reading has never come naturally to me, yet people often tell me that I write well. Strange, isn't it? The very thing that challenges me most is often hidden behind the thing I do best.

This week, I have been preparing for a medical procedure that most people consider routine. The instructions seemed simple enough. There were pages of directions and even pictures. Yet somehow, I managed to fail. Twice.

What many people do not understand is that dyslexia is not simply reading words backward. Instructions can become a maze. A sequence of steps that appears obvious to others can feel like trying to follow a map while the roads keep changing directions.

Then add diabetes to the equation. The dietary restrictions, blood sugar lows, lightheadedness, and fatigue create another layer of confusion. What should be a straightforward process becomes a physical and mental obstacle course.

As I sat reflecting on my frustration, I thought about learning to water ski.

The first time you try to water ski, the instructions sound easy. Hold the rope. Keep your knees bent. Let the boat pull you up. Everyone on the shore makes it look effortless.

Then the boat accelerates.

The water rushes over your face. The skis separate. You lose your balance. Before you know it, you're floating in the lake wondering what just happened.

The people watching may only see the fall. What they do not see is the effort it took just to get into the water and try.

The second attempt is often harder. You know how much it hurt the first time. You know what can go wrong. Yet you grab the rope again.

That is where I find myself today.

I may have failed the procedure twice. I may have misunderstood instructions that seemed simple to everyone else. I may have battled low blood sugar and frustration along the way. But like a water skier floating in the wake of the boat, I am still holding onto the rope.

Sometimes success is not getting up on the skis the first time. Sometimes success is having the courage to try again after the fall.

The water does not care how many times you failed. The boat does not judge your previous attempts. It simply offers another pull forward.

Life works much the same way.

So, I will grab the rope again. I will study the instructions again. I will make another attempt.

Because every skier who eventually glides across the water first learned what it felt like to sink beneath it.

Peace to all—mind, body, and soul. ✌

New Entry - 6 - 4 - 2026

Written Waves – The Tide Between the Waves

I have learned that my mind moves a lot like the water. Some days I wake up with the feeling of a perfect swell rolling beneath me. The air smells fresh, the horizon looks endless, and every stroke forward feels effortless. Ideas connect like currents beneath the surface, and suddenly I can see the route, the destination, and every buoy in between. Those are the days when motivation feels less like work and more like catching a wave that was always meant for me.

Then there are the low tides.

The water pulls away from shore, exposing every rock, stump, and obstacle I forgot was there. I stare at the same task, knowing it needs to be done, yet I cannot find the right place to begin. Instead of paddling forward, I drift. I check one thing, then another. I find distractions disguised as productivity. The shoreline feels farther away than it really is.

For years, I wondered why my moods seemed to rise and fall so dramatically. Was something wrong with me? Maybe not.

As a nonlinear thinker, I have realized that my mind is constantly searching for patterns, connections, and understanding. When I can see the path, I become energized. When I cannot see the starting point, my momentum stalls. The frustration is not from the work itself. It comes from not yet seeing the current beneath the surface.

The lesson is that low tide is not failure. It is observation. It is the ocean pulling back before the next wave arrives. The answer is rarely to force the wave. The answer is to study the water, understand the conditions, and trust that the tide will return.

The ripple is what people see—motivation, accomplishment, and progress. The gravitational pull is what they do not see—the hours of thinking, studying, questioning, and searching for the current that makes the next wave possible.

Sometimes my greatest strength and greatest challenge are the same thing. I do not think in straight lines. I think like the ocean. 

Revelation:

 "The wave never apologizes for rising and falling. Neither should I. Both are simply part of the tide." ✌️