Turn the yin-yang on its side and you see a wave. Two sides that never mix but never separate. A lava lamp of intertwined forces.

Everything moves in waves. Not a zebra — no clean black stripe, then a clean white one. Just more of something, then less. More energy, then less. More money, then less. Like seasons. Like Bitcoin. The line never holds still and it never breaks in two. So when you’re in the trough, you’re not in the “bad stripe” — you’re in the part of the wave that always swings back up. Knowing that is half the ride.

A wave forms where two environments meet. Water and air. Warm and cold. There can be no gaps — the wave exists precisely because both environments fill everything, moving toward each other with no emptiness in between. The pressure outside is held by the pressure inside. Go slack and the wave crashes over you: exhaustion, burnout, loss of meaning.

This is also how relationships work. A couple is not just two people occupying the same flat. It’s a unity. The boundary between yin and yang is where two people meet. In a real pair, there should be no gap. Each one carries a piece of the other inside. Daughters resemble fathers, sons resemble mothers.

Both should add to the wave. Fill the space between so there’s no emptiness. Like an egg — you can’t crush it from outside when there’s no gap. The stronger both push in, the stronger the wave they ride together.

Riding the wave is an art of its own. Flow is when spirit and mind join, and the mind sees: what is happening is what should be happening. The mind stops resisting. Off the wave, the mind treats the world as an opponent and paddles against the current. In flow the fight with the water ends — the wave does the carrying, and you and the motion are one.

You can’t control everything. Everything runs its course — no need to cling to the last car of the train, trying to turn time back. Slow down, trust the process — overthinking never helps. Let it be what it will be. Let it flow.

The Reading List

The ocean is big. You get one ride.