Launch on Every Wave

A reflection on presence, joy, and riding the wild now.

There’s something about that word: launch.

It’s not cautious.
It’s not measured.
It doesn’t ask, “Is the water warm enough?”

It implies movement. Risk. Trust.
Not stepping gently into the shallows, but throwing yourself into the surf with your whole, unapologetic soul.

Thoreau’s words aren’t soft philosophy—they’re a challenge.
Live in the present.
Not visit it briefly between regrets and planning,
but inhabit it. Set up shop in the moment. Make camp in the Now.

And then?
Launch.
Don’t overthink. Don’t hesitate. Don’t wait for “perfect.”

Launch on the wave, even if it crashes.
Especially if it crashes.
Because the wave is life. Constantly arriving. Constantly changing.
And you, little cosmic surfer, are meant to ride it—not resist it.

And here’s the wildest part:

Not someday.
Not when the schedule clears, the house is clean, or your chakras align.
Now.
In this breath. In this cup of tea.
In this laugh. In this difficult conversation.
In this messy, imperfect Tuesday morning.

Eternity isn’t some grand, celestial promise waiting out in the void.
It’s hidden in the ordinary.
It’s stitched into the fabric of each moment,
for those brave enough to notice.

How Do We Practice That?

We move slowly enough to see.
We breathe deeply enough to feel.
We listen carefully enough to remember we’re alive.
We step onto the mat,
or sit in silence,
or walk barefoot through the grass,
and we let the world arrive without needing to change it.

Living in the present isn’t always comfortable.
It doesn’t promise bliss.
But it promises truth.
And truth, unlike bliss, can hold us through anything.

So whatever wave is coming your way—ride it.
Not because it’s easy.
But because it’s real.

And real, my friend, is where the magic lives.