When I lived in Hawaii, one of my favorite pastimes was to watch the surfers. When a particularly large set of waves approached, bathers were warned to get out of the water and surfers paddled hard out to sea to catch one of them. I’d watch the activity through binoculars, safely high up on the beach.
One time I was swimming off a small beach on more of the more remote islands. The ocean seemed still and clear as glass, but, being smart, I stayed fairly close to shore. Even so, I suddenly found myself way over my head, unable to touch sand. I thought I’d be okay until a set of waves began to approach. I dived under the first, and the next, but the third came large and fast and I hadn’t caught my breath yet. I was pushed under it, and pulled out on a sort of undertow. Gasping, I broke up from the sea, saw another wave looming over me, and with a shock realized I was much farther out from the beach than I liked. Much farther out. On the distant shore, a lifeguard leaned against his surfboard, as though assessing whether I was okay. I’m not sure what happened, but the next thing I knew I was back where I’d started, knee-deep in completely smooth water again. The friendly life-guard was calmly explaining that there was a deep channel made by a particular current that I’d sort of fallen into, but, if I stayed on this side of it, I’d be fine.
The whole thing only lasted a couple of minutes but as I lay back on the beach, still gasping for air, I felt completely confused. Had I been in danger? Was I safe, ever? Who would be there to save me if I wasn’t?
Sometimes I think the news is a bit like those waves. We probably all need to learn to surf.