On the edge of a quiet Balinese village, where the rice fields met the sea, there lived an old fisherman named Wayan. He was known not just for his skill in navigating the ocean, but for his wisdom—though he never claimed to be wise. Every morning, Wayan would push his small wooden boat into the waves, without the need to check the tide charts, nor listening to the weather reports, he simply felt the sea, trusted its rhythm, and allowed it to take him where he needed to go.
One day, a young man named Ketut, who had always admired Wayan, approached him.“Bapa Wayan,” the youngster said, “how do you always find that abundance of fish? Others come back empty-handed, yet you always return with your boat full. What is your secret?” The old man chuckled, his sun-wrinkled face breaking into a smile. He gestured for Ketut to step into the boat. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go fishing.” As they paddled beyond the breaking waves, Wayan handed the young man the oar. “Take us where the fish are,” he said.
Ketut hesitated. “But how do I know where they are?” Wayan leaned back, letting the boat rock gently with the movement of the sea. “That’s the trouble, isn’t it?” he said. “You think you need to know before you move. But the sea is alive, always changing. If you wait to be certain, you will never go anywhere.” Ketut frowned, gripping the oar tightly. “So what do I do?” “Feel,” Wayan said simply. “Feel where the water pulls your boat. Feel where your hands move without effort. Trust the feeling.” Ketut closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the soft lapping of the waves against the boat.
Then, he dipped the oar into the water, allowing himself to follow its natural pull. Before he knew it, they were gliding smoothly, the boat almost steering itself. Wayan nodded. “Good. Now let go of the oar.” Ketut’s eyes widened. “But we’ll drift!”Wayan laughed. “Exactly.”
For a long moment, they simply floated. The boat rocked, the sun warmed their skin, and the ocean stretched endlessly before them. Then, suddenly, the surface of the water broke. A school of fish leapt into the air, shimmering in the morning light. Ketut gasped. “The fish!” The older fisherman picked up his net, cast it effortlessly, and pulled it back, heavy with their catch.
Ketut stared in amazement. “How did you know?” Wayan smiled, securing the net. “I didn’t know with my mind. I simply trusted.
The sea has always known where the fish are. The question is—do we allow it to guide us, or do we try to control it?” Ketut sat quietly, absorbing the words. “Life,” Wayan continued, “is like the ocean. It moves, it flows. Most people struggle against it, trying to force their way. They think they must know where to go, what to do, what the future holds. But those who trust the current—who listen, feel, and let go—always find themselves exactly where they need to be.”
As they made their way back to shore, Ketut looked out at the horizon, the light of a new understanding dawning in his eyes.He had spent his whole life focused on trying to steer his boat. He had never considered that, perhaps, the sea had been guiding him all along.
The two men pulled the boat onto the shore, Ketut remained deep in thought. The old fisherman’s words had settled inside him like seeds planted in fertile soil. He had always believed that life required effort—pushing, striving, making sure every step was carefully planned. Yet here was Wayan, moving through life as effortlessly as the waves that carried his boat.
The village was waking up as they walked back. Women were placing offerings at the temple gates, their hands moving with quiet reverence. Farmers bent over young rice shoots, trusting the rain to come. Everything in nature moved in its own time, yet Ketut saw something he hadn’t noticed before—there was no tension in any of it.“Bapa,” he said finally, “what if the sea takes you somewhere you don’t want to go?”
Wayan stopped and turned to him with a gentle smile. “And how do you know where you are supposed to go?” Ketut opened his mouth, but no words came. He had never questioned it before. He had always thought life was about choosing a destination and working hard to get there. The older man pointed toward the ocean. “Look at the waves. They rise, they fall. Sometimes they take us exactly where we expect. Sometimes they don’t. But do you see the ocean struggling?”
Ketut shook his head. “The fish don’t resist the current. The trees don’t resist the wind. It is only humans who believe they must fight life to get what they want.” They reached the village square, where a group of men were arguing over the price of fish at the morning market. “Life is much the same,” Wayan said. “Most people spend their days worrying—about money, about work, about what others think. They push and pull, trying to control things. But the more they fight the current, the more exhausted they become.”Ketut sighed. “I understand what you’re saying, Bapa. But what if I let go, and life doesn’t bring me what I want?” Wayan chuckled. “ And what if it brings you something better?”The words struck Ketut like a bell ringing in his chest. Could it really be that simple? Could he really trust life to carry him?
Just then, a little girl ran past them, laughing as she chased a butterfly. She felt no need to plan her steps or worry about where the butterfly would go. She simply followed it, trusting her joy to guide her. Wayan watched Ketut’s face and saw understanding beginning to bloom. “Life will always take you where you need to go,” he said softly. “Your only task is to listen, to feel, and to let go of the need to control.”
Ketut looked out at the horizon, where the sky met the sea in a seamless embrace. For the first time in his life, he wondered what it would feel like to stop rowing against the current—and simply allow himself to be carried. Perhaps, he thought, the journey had been trying to take him home all along.
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