The Channel Crossing

BY5A2271-Exposure.jpg

People kept asking, “Why are you doing this?” 

In my knee jerk response, I would say, “to accomplish an old desire to cross the channel, or I am trying to motivate others to do uncomfortable things." But when I was on the beach at 5:00am in Catalina, feeling the nerves, anxiousness, and fear, I felt the real answer would be discovered somewhere in the middle of that channel.  

The purpose or the “answer” moved from being external to something deeply personal. 

We launched in the dark, at 5:44am. There wasn’t a breath of wind, and the surface of the water could be easily mistaken for the starry sky.  People slept in their boats around us as we stealthily cut through the water. Every stroke with my paddle was like breaking liquid glass, distorting the stars. The sailboat quietly hummed its little engine and set a pace similar to mine. We were off, and there was no turning back. The goal was Seal Beach, an expected 26 miles away. 

As the sun rose, putting the stars to bed, a new beauty awoke.  The wind, still non existent had the Pacific like our own giant pool. The boat and I were the only disruptions to the mirror surface. Everything turned orange.  The sky, water, and darker silhouette of the island was an orange I experienced for the first time. 

The sense of Freedom was overwhelming as I paddled toward the invisible horizon. I pulled away from the boat and was alone. All I could hear was my breath, water lapping over my board and the paddle cutting through the surface. The experience was freedom. No engine, no sail, no one else to move me along.  I found myself deeply submitted to the sea and God Himself. The ocean is unpredictable, a powerful force that can morph and change at any instant. Large and dangerous creatures lurked just below my feet.  I was forced to trust and rely on something bigger than myself.

In that trust I found freedom. I heard it said that the best place to be is when God is your only option.  I find my natural leanings are to control, protect, and secure everything around me, to the point where those securities and comforts actually turn into bondage. What were luxuries, now become expectations. WiFi is no longer a convenience, it has become an essential human right. Take away my iPhone, and I am lost and naked.  This is bondage. 

My 7+ hours on the water was a breaking free of the unnecessary dependence, securities, comforts and safety nets I put up all around me. More than that, the crossing was a breaking free of even my mental and physical limitations.  Crossing that channel was the hardest thing I have ever done. The channel took me to places mentally and physically I have never been. 

Around mile 15 I was struck with peace and joy. I believe these two were by-products of freedom. It was as if freedom was the covering over the whole experience, and peace and joy were fruits produced under freedom. Freedom is only healthy within boundaries.  Total freedom leads to destruction. Had I paddled the opposite way from Seal Beach, my experience would have ended in death. I experienced freedom and the fruits of it because the two coast lines marking my boundaries. A small child can have wonderful adventures in the bounds of his back yard. But take away the gates, and he wanders to the front where a busy street and other threats endanger his life. 

Fear of the unknown gripped me prior to leaving the beach. Looking across that channel with no visible destination was a mental feat to overcome. My head said, “What do you think you are doing? You have never done this and it is unsafe. You aren’t prepared.”

But my heart retorted, “Shut up and let’s go!”  

What I discovered on the other side of fear was freedom, peace, and joy. Peace came and went, especially as my body began to give out. But ironically as the pain increased, so did joy.  The last 10 miles were the most difficult. Specifically because I had expected and trained for 26 miles. When I hit 25 miles and still couldn’t see my destination, my heart sank.  I still had another 6 miles to go, which translated to over an hour longer of hard paddling! My feet were numb and everything burned.  The cramping in my hands became normal. Despite the radical discomfort, joy was grinning at me and through me the whole time. It’s really hard to explain, but I almost enjoyed the extremeness of the whole situation, and knew I had to finish.

As I came to mile, 29, 30, and the final stretch, the pain subsided and my focus was the finish line. What struck me was the limitations I put on myself thinking it was only 26 miles.  Had I known it would be 30.7 miles, I don’t know if I would have gone. I would probably either trained longer or found a shorter route. But at the final stretch, my strength was renewed and the pain subsided.  The end was near, and my beautiful wife, two kids and friends were on the beach to welcome me. I caught a small wave in, landed on the shore of Seal Beach, and dropped to my knees in elation and gratitude. 

A Navy Seal once said, “When you think you are at your limit, you are really only at 60%. You have another 40% capacity left.” 

The limitations we put on ourselves are made up. They are fabricated.  How often do we say, “I could never” or “That is impossible” or “I just can’t anymore.”  

A book I think everyone should read is Viktor Frankl’s, “Man’s Search for Meaning.”  Viktor Frankl was a holocaust  survivor and has endured the worst a human can endure.  He says the following:

"Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom."

The choice for freedom is ours.  As life becomes more comfortable, comfort becomes the expectation, eliminating even the ability for us to think we can do uncomfortable things. Our head makes agreements for why we can’t, couldn't or shouldn't.  But in the end we get to choose. I would bet if you took a close look at your fears, it is probably just your head convincing you to not do something that your heart has been wanting to do your whole life. 

The paddle was uncomfortable. As I write this almost a week later, I am still sore.  But the soreness is a reminder of joy.  I look fondly over that channel knowing that every stroke across brought me closer to my true self and revealed more capabilities. I want to live from the heart, to be in touch with the desires God imprints on my heart. Uncovering that desire and going after it uncovers who we are and what we are capable of. Going after our hearts desire is challenging but rewarding.  You might be surprised what you find.

What is your channel to cross?

What do you desire?


 

Zac ErnstComment