From the Top of the Cliff

There’s something profoundly meditative about standing on the edge of a cliff, watching the

ocean stretch endlessly into the horizon. I found myself doing just that not long ago, mesmerized by the chaos below—waves crashing against each other, surging forward, pulling back, tumbling over one another in what appeared to be an eternal, restless conflict.

From where I stood, it looked like a battle—raw, unfiltered, and intense. And yet, as I zoomed out—both with my eyes and my thoughts—I noticed something else entirely. Despite the individual struggles of each wave, the ocean itself was in motion, flowing forward with a quiet, determined rhythm. What had seemed like a scene of constant clash was, in truth, a part of a grander harmony, an ecosystem of movement and transformation. It reminded me of life itself.

When we’re caught in the middle of emotional turbulence—whether it’s grief, anxiety, burnout, or uncertainty—it’s easy to see only the crashing waves. All we feel is resistance. We focus on the friction, the unmet expectations, the days when we feel like we’re barely staying afloat. But what we often forget is the vantage point from above—the ability to step back and recognize that even in the moments of greatest struggle, we’re still moving. Just like the ocean’s waves, we are not stagnant. We are in motion.

The Illusion of Stuckness

In therapy and in life, I’ve often encountered the phrase, “I feel stuck.” It’s a common sentiment, especially in our goal-oriented, productivity-obsessed culture where progress is measured by checklists and milestones. But feeling stuck doesn’t necessarily mean we are stuck. Sometimes, it just means we’re in a phase of processing, of integration—a slower wave amid the larger current.

Psychologist Carol Dweck’s research on the growth mindset sheds light on this idea. She notes that “becoming is better than being,” emphasizing the value of the process over the fixed outcome (Dweck, 2006). Progress isn’t always visible or linear. Sometimes, the most transformative growth happens beneath the surface, much like the undercurrents of the sea—subtle, quiet, and unnoticed until we look back and realize how far we’ve come.

The Power of Pause and Perspective

The ocean has taught me the importance of pausing. In the midst of personal challenges, our instinct is often to push harder, to fight the current. But sometimes the most radical act is to stop—to take a breath, to zoom out, and to observe rather than react.

When we pause, we give ourselves space to reflect on the journey rather than fixate on the destination. It’s in these pauses that we remember how many waves we’ve already survived, how many storms we’ve weathered, and how, despite it all, we’re still here. Research in mindfulness and self-compassion echoes this sentiment.

According to Kristin Neff, practicing self-compassion involves treating ourselves with the same kindness we would offer a friend during hardship, acknowledging that suffering is part of the shared human experience (Neff, 2011).

This practice allows us to shift from self-criticism to gentle reflection. It invites us

to look at our lives not from a microscope, where everything feels magnified and overwhelming, but from a telescope, where the bigger picture emerges.

You Are Part of the Ocean

If you are reading this and feel like you’re caught in a crashing wave—know that you are not alone. Your struggle is not a sign of failure, but a natural part of movement. Healing, growth, and becoming are rarely graceful. They’re messy, unpredictable, and nonlinear. But they are

happening.

Try, just for a moment, to shift your gaze. Imagine watching your life from above. Can you see not just the struggle, but the flow? Not just the moment, but the movement?

That heartbreak you thought would drown you? You’re still breathing.

That goal you didn’t reach yet? You’re still trying.

That day you barely got out of bed? You still did.

You are moving, even when it doesn’t feel like it.

The ocean doesn’t apologize for its restlessness. It just is. So maybe we can stop apologizing for our chaos too. Maybe we can honor our crashing waves for what they are—evidence that we are alive, that we are trying, and that we are not stagnant.

A Closing Reflection

The next time you feel overwhelmed by life’s collisions, I invite you to find your own vantage

point. Whether it's a physical place, a practice, or a person that gives you perspective, seek it out. Look at your waves. Zoom out.

And then, remind yourself: You are not just the struggle. You are the ocean.

References:

Dweck, C. S. (2006). Mindset: The New Psychology of Success. Random House.

Neff, K. D. (2011). Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself. William

Morrow.