"Life is one big wave. You must learn how to ride the wave through the ups and downs." — Sylvester McNutt III
Playitas Beach, Cabo Corrientes, Jalisco
March 16th, 2026
📍San Pancho, Nayarit, Mexico 🇲🇽
¡Saludos desde el desierto!
Surfers have a few different names for what happens when a wave catches you wrong and spins you around underwater—getting worked, rag-dolled, caught in the washing machine. Arms and legs everywhere. Board leash pulling. Sand scraping your skin. No sense of direction.
I call it “getting blended,” because that’s exactly what it feels like—being spun around underwater like something caught in a kitchen blender, waiting for the ocean to finish its cycle.
During thelockdown across Jalisco and Nayarit in February, I found myself in the ocean in San Pancho, a small surf town north of Puerto Vallarta, known for its waves. That day the water felt especially gnarly—like the entire ocean had picked up on the collective fear humming through Mexico. Getting into the ocean wasn’t the problem. Getting back out was.
Just when I thought I had finally reached solid ground, another wave would crash over me and drag me right back into the break. I’d plant my feet, take a step forward, and then—whoosh—the sand would disappear beneath me again. At one point, I was fully tossed. Hair everywhere. Saltwater in my mouth. Sand in places sand should not be. When I finally stumbled onto shore, I looked like I had been through something, because I had—completely blended.
And lately, life has felt a lot like that. Moments where I think I’ve found my footing… followed by another surge that pulls me off balance again. High highs. Low lows. A strange mix of exhilaration and exhaustion.
View of Playitas Beach, Cabo Corrientes
Anyone who has spent time in the ocean knows the break zone is chaotic. The water churns there. Currents shift and waves collide. The energy is unpredictable. But surfers also learn something important very quickly: when you get caught underwater in a wave, the worst thing you can do is panic. Panic wastes oxygen. Instead, you learn a kind of calm surrender. Protect your head. Relax your body. Wait. The wave will release you.
My surfing days in San Francisco back in the 2000’s
When I was surfing in San Francisco years ago—back when I was a student at the Academy of Art University—this was one of the first lessons I had to learn. The Pacific there is cold and powerful. If you fight the water, you lose. But if you stay calm, eventually the turbulence passes and your body rises naturally to the surface. That wisdom came back to me in San Pancho, and it’s coming back to me again now.
Life has seasons where everything feels smooth and aligned. The kind of days when you catch a beautiful wave and ride it all the way in. And then there are seasons like this one; where the water churns. Where you’re navigating grief and growth at the same time. Where old structures dissolve while new ones are still forming. Where fear occasionally whispers that maybe this wave is the one that will pull you under.
But here’s what the ocean taught me. You’re not drowning, you’re inside a wave. Those are two very different things.
The instinct to thrash—to control, to force, to get out immediately—is strong. But thrashing underwater only burns through your oxygen faster. The wiser posture is something closer to trust. Not passive resignation. but intelligent surrender. The kind that remembers the ocean has its own rhythms and that a surfer doesn’t control the sea. They study it, feel it, respect it, and move with it.
Sunset on San Pancho Beach
And maybe life is a lot like that. Right now I feel very much in the water—sometimes riding the highs of a beautiful swell, sometimes getting thoroughly tossed in the break. But being blended doesn’t necessarily mean something has gone wrong. It might simply mean you’re where the waves are. People standing safely on shore rarely get knocked down. They also don’t get to ride. So for now, I’m remembering what the ocean taught me years ago:
Protect your head.
Stay calm.
Trust the current.
Eventually, the wave lets go. And when it does, you rise. 🌊
With Love, unconditionally—
Jennifer
P.S.—I’d love to hear from YOU! Rather than emailing me or dropping me a DM, please post a comment below 👇
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