Relativity of history

It was a sunny, hot day in Sydney. At that time, I was living in Bondi Beach, next to one of the most iconic Aussie beaches. By the late afternoon, I got home, grabbed my board and walked towards the ocean for my daily dose of surfing. Since Bondi was usually overcrowded I headed south towards Tamarama. From my place, it was around 15-minutes walk. When I arrived at Tamarama, I realised the conditions were excellent—only a few surfers in the water and nice lines racing towards the shore.

After a brief stretch, I ran into the ocean and soon reached the break. The session was enjoyable, but at that time in late 2012, I didn’t have much experience in surfing. To be more precise, I hadn’t yet caught any open wave. That was about to change. On the horizon, I saw a lovely line that was building up as it got closer. I seemed to be in the perfect position to catch it. Everyone else was either waiting at different breaks or paddling back from the previous ride. I took the position and slowly started paddling as the wave got closer and closer, finally lifting me up and breaking just behind the tail of my board. Once I felt being pushed, I popped up and started riding the wave, which felt different than ever before. Until that day, I got myself caught in the whitewash, struggling to stay standing as long as possible. This time it was way smoother and easier to keep balance. Before me lay a beautiful, curved shape of a glassy-like water. I was in the pocket! Finally, after all those months of trying, I was really surfing. The ride wasn’t that long, but I still remember how smooth and pleasant it was. That was a fantastic day, and it will stay forever in my memory. I would call it the Myth of the First Wave, and I picture it in my memory as a magazine-like scene. I still feel the excitement and pride as I rode the wave.

In reality, I doubt it was that perfect. Most likely, it was a clumsy ride with a very short period in the pocket that made the impression. But is it that important how it looked in reality? I built up the myth, and it helps me feel good about my surfing. Thanks to this memory, I can point to the moment when I caught my first real wave. Would it be helpful to undermine my experience, which was probably crafted by my mind?

I believe that when we look back at past events, it is impossible to recall them exactly as they were. We all view the world through our own lenses, and the same event can be perceived differently by different people. Often, we argue, realising the perspective mismatch and try to find out what really happened. The same history can be told differently and can lead to a different conclusions. As time passes, the situation becomes increasingly blurry, and often we tend to make it seem more significant than it actually was. But is it that important to get all the details right? I am sure that most of the stories from the past that build up our nations and societies are far from reality, and sometimes are entirely crafted to serve the higher goals. We can argue with it and try to find out what really happened, but if we think about the goals of those stories, it might not be the best idea. I lean towards leaving this job to historians and keeping the myths that provide us with some moral guidance and role models. Greeks had their gods and mythology, and we have our own set of stories that we tell ourselves. Focusing on objective reality might not lead us to the best outcome.

I also want to believe my first “real” wave at Tamarama was perfect, open, and almost barreling. From that day, I became a surfer, and I will stick to it. It will be my Myth of the First Wave.