I’m a total fraud. I talk often about the ebb and flow of life—the rhythm baked into the very framework of life—but I don’t accept it for myself. I expect myself to flow. All. The. Time. No ebbing allowed. Not creatively, not mentally, not physically. If I’m moving back out to sea, I’m failing. But I would never believe that lie about you, so why do I so easily believe it for myself? Flowing feels so darn good. But you know what they say about rip currents? That you’re not supposed to fight against the current because your efforts are futile? If you’re caught in a strong enough current, you’re supposed to relax. Because it won’t last forever, won’t pin you underwater, and will dissipate once it’s past the surf line. Remain present. Honor the force. Relax. And get ready for another flow.