Out There

Out There
Digby Scott

G’day
I’m Digby Scott.
This book is a collection of thoughts
that have emerged from two
colliding passions of mine - being
out there in nature, and helping
people to be more of who they are.
I windsurf, surf, and stand-up
paddle. I also coach, write, design
and speak. I’m inspired by nature,
and by people who push their limits
- and who have the courage to be
themselves.
In these pages, I’ve tried to capture
some of the lessons nature has to
teach us about living. I hope you
find your own inspiration
somewhere in here.
Cheers!
Digby Scott

Out there
I make an annual pilgrimage to Gnaraloo station, a fairly rugged spot on the coast about 1100km
north of Perth. The wind and the waves there make it one of the world's best windsurfing
locations. It's also a very remote, unforgiving and "raw" place.
Someone asked me the other day why I go to Gnaraloo. My first response was to "get away with
the boys". However, thinking about it some more, I realised that this isn't the main reason. When I
think about Gnaraloo, I don't think of the camaraderie around the campfire. I have a vivid picture in
my mind of me flying along on my board, riding a perfect wave walling up in front of me, with the
coral reef clear and menacing below me. I'm right there. That's what calls me there. A
reconnection with something primal.
Then I got to thinking about how, in our busy lives, connecting to "something primal" can be
extraordinarily difficult to experience if we don't seek it out. I suspect it has something to do with
getting out of our comfort zone, or just letting ‘busyness’ get in the way.
Whatever "it" is, it will be different for you than it is for me.
What is it for you? And how do you make sure you experience it?

Choices
Catching a wave is taking a risk. Paddling onto a wave, committing to the drop, not knowing
whether you’ll make it or not, is all part of the experience. You’ll end up with one of two possible
outcomes. Either an adrenaline-rushing ride along the face, or an adrenaline-rushing dumping
along the bottom. More often than not, I end up with the second outcome, but that doesn’t stop
me going back for more.
After a good drubbing, I’m left with a long paddle back out to the break. This is great reflection
time. I have the choice of thinking one of two things. I can think “how can I avoid that happening
next time?”, or I can think “how can I improve?”. A subtle but key difference. The first is about is
avoiding pain, the second is about moving closer to what I want.
In my experience, focusing on the avoiding pain doesn’t actually get you any closer to your goal –
if I thought that, I’d pull back every time the drop looked scary. I’d be opting for safety, not
progress. By thinking, “how can I improve?”, I’m focusing on my strengths, which give me the
“strength” to commit to the next scary drop, and I increase my chances of a great ride.
When bad things happen, what thinking occupies your mind? Do you seek resolution
through avoiding pain, or do you move closer to what you want by focusing on the good
stuff?

The only way out is through
Kelly Slater. You may have heard of him. He's a surfer, in fact an eleven-time world champion.
Some call him "the Michael Jordan of surfing." It's less well known that he used to be petrified of
big waves. How did he transform to become the champion he is? He threw himself into the jaws of
the beast. Here's an excerpt from his autobiography "Pipe Dreams - A Surfer's Journey", about
his turning point:
"I took off on one wave and tried to get into the tube but got smashed. The wave knocked me
underwater and all the fear I had built up about big waves was right there. I came up, and my first
thought was, "Wow that wasn't bad at all." I still had more breath and hadn't even come close to
drowning. It was a pretty good-size wave, and I expected it to be a lot scarier. It was the end of
my heat, and I sat up on my board. Instead of paddling in, I just sat there with the biggest grin on
my face....I just started screaming "Woo-hoo!" I said to myself "I'm doing this. I'm f---king doing
this!"
The only way out is through...
What do you need to go through?

The art of being dumped
If you've every bodysurfed a wave, you'll probably know the experience of being
dumped. Enveloped in a cauldron of white, foaming water, your body is mercilessly thrown about
like a rag doll by the power of the ocean. You have no clue as to which way is up (to the surface
and safety), and which way is down - gravity ceases to exist in the uncomfortable cauldron of
dumping.
And while gravity disappears, time seems to drag on forever. The two seconds in the cauldron
seems like two minutes on the relatively serene surface. You can't even grab onto anything that
will give you a sense of anchoring - everything certain is beyond your grasp.
I've learnt a good lesson from my dumping experiences. Struggle is pointless. Submitting to the
ocean's power and "going with it" allows me to relax, knowing there will be a time when the water
calms, and I can get my bearings and shoot for the surface. By letting go of the need for stability,
just for the moment, I can actually enjoy the experience of uncertainty and chaos.
When you get dumped on the "wave of life", how do you respond? How could you respond?

The growth myth
When you think of the word "growth", what comes to mind? Getting bigger? That's usually the
response. But we may limit our thinking by seeing "growth" as simply "growing bigger"...
Not long ago I was working with an executive team - they stated that they wanted to be the
market leader. When asked how they would know when they were the market leader, the answer
was "when we are bigger than our competition - we need to grow."
I asked them to consider how else could they measure "market leadership". After some reflection,
the answers flowed: "When we have a culture that attracts the best people"; "When we are
recognised by our market as being the best, not the biggest".
It opened up all sorts of possibilities for them. "Growth" suddenly became more about quality,
about maturation, about being more of what really mattered to them.
We all grow "bigger" - until we're about 18. Then "growing up" becomes something different -
something less tangible, more internal, more qualitative. We know lots of "grown ups" that aren't
really! And many organisations too. Sometimes growing bigger is the answer. Sometimes not.
Is traditional growth what you really need? Or do you need to "grow" in some other way?

Natural tendencies
A hot air balloon's natural tendency is to rise. When filled, it's held to the ground only by ropes
and stakes. While the ropes and stakes serve a useful purpose for a time (to allow passengers on,
to get the balloon "set up"), they also hold the balloon back from fulfilling its purpose. There's a
time for ropes and stakes, but it's limited.
I was speaking with a client this morning about his career. He had clearly identified what his
"natural tendency" was towards, but felt frustrated about not seeming to be able to move towards
his aspirations. Once we introduced the balloon metaphor, he started to identify some of the
ropes and stakes holding him back.
Unsurprisingly, most of the major ones were of his own creation - self-limiting beliefs about what
was possible and what was not. Once he had this awareness, we were able to start to create
strategies to pull the stakes and cut the ropes.
What's your "natural tendency" towards? What's your sense of purpose? What ropes and
stakes are holding you back? Which of these are of your own creation? What might it take
to pull the stakes and cut the ropes?

How to deal with a humpback whale
Here’s another story from the wilds of North West Western Australia. I was sailing out to sea at
high speed, about 500m from shore, and was looking for the next swell to ride back to the reef. It
was a particularly windy day with a pretty big swell running, and my senses were heightened. I
had already had some pretty amazing waves in the session so far, and was feeling "in the zone".
And a good thing too. As I was flying along, right before my eyes, a huge humpback whale
emerged from the depths. It was no more than 15 metres directly in front of me, and, travelling at
speed, I had no time to think. My instincts kicked in and before I knew it, I had come to a
complete stop, had turned my board around, and was sailing away in the other direction.
Needless to say, my senses were racked up another few notches! The rest of the sailing session
was one of the best I have ever experienced, and I was on a natural high for hours afterwards.
The interesting thing is that, at whale time, I didn't stop and ponder my options. I just acted in a
flash. No time for panic, or "what if?" - I just did what needed to be done.
This experience got me wondering - does too much thinking get in the way of us really
living? How often do we act from instinct alone? How often do we bypass our gut feeling
and defer to the slower process of reason? What are we missing out on by doing so?

Watch for the close-out
Gnaraloo’s waves are big, clean and long, peeling over the pristine clear waters of the Ningaloo
Reef - a wavesailor's heaven. Where I live, a sailor gets maybe 5-10 seconds on a decent wave. At
Gnaraloo, you get up to a minute!
So its very tempting to ride the wave as long as possible and squeeze every last bit of fun out of it.
However, there's a problem here. When it's big, and you ride it for too long, the wave "closes out"
- leaving you with nowhere to go. You end up being pummelled on the urchin-infested reef and
having a long swim for your gear. Not a pleasant experience. Yes, it happened to me more than
once!
I think that, often, we try to "ride a wave" for too long in business and life - whether it be a job, a
particular service or product we are selling, or a relationship. We ignore the signs that warn us of a
"close out" and we often become the victim of circumstance. And we end up being pummelled
and having to recover, whereas if we were more observant...
Learn to read the signs.
What waves are you riding today that you need to get off? How do you know when to get off
and find the next wave?

Go with the flow
Ever been caught in a rip? You know, the type that takes you unawares and before you know it,
you're being dragged far from shore and experiencing a feeling of mild (or greater) panic? What
might you typically do, once you realise what's happening? If you're like many people, it may be
with the primal instinct of trying to swim against the current, straight back to shore and safety. As
you might have experienced, this often proves to be the worst possible option, leading you to
drain your energy and possibly more trouble.
You could also choose to "go with the flow", and ride out the rip, which leaves you a long way
from shore, and with a long way to get back to where you once came from.
Or finally, you might acknowledge that you can't swim against the current, and at the same you
don't fancy the option of a long swim back. What do you do? Lifesavers teach us that, if possible,
try to swim across the current, towards calmer waters, without fighting it. Its a bit of "go with the
flow", and a bit of taking things into your own hands.
When change happens to you that goes against your plans, how do you respond?

Love / hate
My relationship with big scary waves is a love/hate thing.
The thing with a big wave, like most great learning experiences, is that there is no room for
compromise. I either go for it 100%, and risk all in the hope for a return of an amazing ride, or I
avoid it all together, and forfeit my opportunity to some other more daring soul, and hope for
something smaller and kinder to arrive for me. I could be waiting all day. It all depends on my
attitude.
Same with life, right?
Do you take the opportunities as they "arise", regardless of the scariness factor, or do you
hope for the more comfortable (and more popular) options to pop up? How do you know
what's coming on the horizon, anyway?
And how long do you have in the water?

Just do it
When I was younger, I used to get all picky about the conditions.
Too cloudy, too cold, too big, too small, too windy, not enough wind.
Then life got busy. Kids, work, stuff.
At some point. I realised that what I love to do, and what I was actually doing, were slowly
drifting in separate directions.
Now I get out there as much as I can, whatever the conditions. Life’s too short to wait.
If you wait for the perfect wave, you’ll wait forever.
Get out there, get amongst it, and enjoy every moment.
Words - by Digby Scott
Photos - by Digby Scott except for “The only way out is through” by Jamie Scott, “How to deal with a humpback whale” by Marco Van
Toor, “Choices” and “Watch for the close out” by John Carter, “Natural tendencies” by Nikki Pead, “Go with the flow” by Chris Brown.

digby@digbyscott.com
@digbyscott