The Ebb and Flow of Life

I’ve noticed a strange phenomenon about life lately. Much like the motion of water tides and currents, there are periods in life where events are flowing one after another. Then these are shortly followed by periods in life where events are ebbing. For me, it seems that the two create a pattern that ultimately leads to a balance between the ebbs and flows.

For instance, over the past couple of months, I’ve been pulled back and forth between many trials and tribulations. 

In early August, three events collided when I made my way to my parents’ home in Livingston. Firstly, on the 2nd of August, I encountered my first freelance writing deadline, where I had to write the opening chapters of a book within the narrow gap of 48 hours. Secondly, this occurred while my family (all seven of us) prepared to set off for a long-awaited road trip  (which hasn’t happened in three years). Thirdly, this car-crammed family venture included attending our cousin’s wedding in London (and reuniting with relatives after five years apart). 

After the dreaded time crunch, I finally submitted my draft that afternoon. I then hastily got packed and ready to leave later that evening.  From there, the Akhtar household was jammed into the car along with our possessions. This included our wedding outfits - oh, and also our hiking gear - did I forget to mention that we were going to Wales immediately after the wedding? 

After all, it isn’t a family holiday if there isn’t any pandemonium thrown in for good measure. 

On the 4th of August, I outwitted my anxiety while I socialised with an army of relatives at my cousin’s wedding. But it would be a merry reunion that was sadly short-lived. We departed the following evening. Our dad, the navigator, immediately set course for Wales. From the 6th to the 7th, we’d spend our time getting lost along Wales’ lush countryside, before we eventually hiked up Mount Snowden. On the way back during the 8th, we took a detour through the Lake District and stayed overnight. A chance for us to marvel at the beautiful scenery - and a welcome rest from the gruelling road trip. 

Finally, after nine days of ceaseless activity, my parent’s home in Livingston was in our sights.

Then events gradually ebbed for the following week. Briefly. I found myself recuperating from the trip. For two days. Then, some events began to flow again. Later in the week, I was lugged around on a big grocery haul. Then, edits and feedback on my freelance work came swiftly along and I had to immediately address the changes. Soon, I found myself accompanying yet another excursion as we drove to Glasgow to buy my sister’s first-ever car. The weekend came and my mum’s birthday bash arrived in full swing on the 15th. Although I was frantically helping to bake the cake with my sister, it was soothing to be grounded in one place for a change.

Several days later, I arrived home in Dundee and expected to rest a while. I was sadly mistaken. The following day an incident occurred and suddenly my partner and I had to learn how to change a flat tyre on a car for the first time. Before I had time to think, my other sister’s birthday was peeking around the corner, and I hopped on the train alone (for the first time since the pandemic began) and quickly returned to Livingston once again on the 23rd.

It was around this time that I realised this lesson: Life has a way of intuitively knowing when you need to slow down or speed up.

Ever since August began, the momentum of events rose like a turbulent wave, drifting me further and further away with the currents into uncharted territory. 

Maybe that is why for the longest time in my childhood, I was afraid of being physically around water. The fear of unknown tides that could propel me anywhere, drifting with the current that has no intention of slowing down. Where has it taken me? How far from comfort have I gone? Can I ever go back?

In the same vein, life runs its course like a body of water. 

The fortnight that ebbed shortly afterwards from August’s onslaught was sorely welcomed. By the end of August, I had returned back to Dundee (again). It was time to slow down the pace. Yet, I didn’t realise how swiftly the time of rest would pass by me.

When I finally permitted myself a moment to reflect on everything that had happened over the month, August had already been brushed aside. The remaining few days of summer were hanging precariously in the balance. While I thought September would usher in more time to unwind, looming events were already conspiring against me.

A new season of ebbs and flows was coming.  

But as early September crawled along under Autumn’s weary guise, the home office got restructured and work life was immediately hectic once more. Freelance efforts mingled with part-time job duties, and soon my brief family holiday faded into the fog of war. 

I’ve finally reached a lull period again in mid-September, where events have receded along the ebbing tide … for now. 

The surreal part of these experiences is that “being busy” like above is considered a great thing. When there is talk of quiet, idle periods there undoubtedly follows a tempest of anxiety.

Why are we all so focused on being busy?

Yes, those periods of flow state are critical for making strides in progress. It‘s during these turbulent events, when we’re swept up by the current and are wading through the waters, that we adapt and learn to survive. Incidentally, it is in the flow of life’s currents that we’re forced into uncomfortable situations, where we inevitably change and experience self-growth. Therefore, it makes sense to have this perpetual fear of complacency swirling around inside. 

No one wants to get stuck in a rut.

Although the flow of life is paramount for our strides in progress, I‘d argue that the ebb of life is just as critical. It is during those periods where the tide recedes, that we can truly reflect on what has passed. We need to see how far we‘ve come. We need a moment of introspection. We need to honour our triumphs and tragedies alike. While it may not be evident to some, we can discover time for such things in typical day-to-day moments.

Life comes and goes as quickly as it began. It will eventually end for us as well. There’s no reason to take any of our experiences for granted. It’s a matter of savouring the serendipity as it comes. Whether it’s appreciating your work through another lens (arguably a difficult thing to do), spreading gratitude for those loved ones in your life, or even simply taking a moment to inhale a deep breath right now wherever you are. It’s perfectly fine to slow down. It only happens every once in a while. 

Instead of waiting around for the next thing to keep yourself busy, why not make the ebb of life worthwhile to you? Whether it‘s learning something new, seeking connection with a long-lost friend or relative, taking up a hobby or long-overdue project, or even just being with yourself and enjoying the solitude, treat it as a mindful opportunity. 

Although we make life unbalanced by being busy as often as possible, perhaps we need to respect, appreciate and seek those quiet moments as well. We can grant ourselves permission to be happy by simply nourishing ourselves with some dose of fulfilment every day.

I believe that life tends to balance out what it offers you: whenever you’re flowing and making strides in progress, there’ll always be periods where you just ebb and are compelled to ease up on the pace. This may be counterintuitive to hustle culture and the overriding demand we all have for “keeping busy”. Even if you don’t want these quiet moments to happen, they will anyway. So why not take comfort in that thought and enjoy it?

At times, the current of life has pulled me ahead further than I anticipated. But the inevitable “ebbing” is bound to resurface. Every phase of life is transient. Nothing lasts forever.

I’m reminded of an old quote from a world-renowned martial artist:

Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.

Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.

– Bruce Lee

While this quote aptly sums up the need to adapt and change with the circumstances arising among us, I think it also speaks volumes about how we should treat the other half of the equation. We need to embrace the “ebbs of life”. We need to remain open-minded as we drift along with life’s current. We need to adopt a flexible mindset and attitude toward these moments. By doing this we can use these idle periods to figure out what we want for ourselves in this life, and perhaps figure out what we can do for others as well.  

Everyone requires periods of introspection to figure out what a fulfilling life means to themselves.

Much like the cyclical nature of progress, perhaps our life experiences follow similar patterns. Good is inevitably counterbalanced with bad. Busy is also balanced out by quiet. But the question is, do we resist that natural pattern - of the ebb and flow of life - or do we finally embrace it and make it worthwhile for us?