How kitesurfing taught me presence, patience, and the art of flow

When Tools Aren’t Enough

As a psychologist, I thought I had all the tools to prevent exhaustion. I knew the theory, I practiced the techniques: reframing thoughts, journaling, positive self-talk. Yet at some point, I hit a deep low — drained, anxious, strangely numb. No technique helped. The harder I tried to “think my way out,” the more disconnected I felt.

The First Spark of Aliveness

The first spark of aliveness came not in my mind, but on the water. During a kitesurfing course, I stood on the board for the first time. The kite pulled, the spray hit my skin, my whole body leaned into the wind. And suddenly, there was no space for overthinking. No analysis, no inner monologue. Just raw presence. For the first time in months, I felt alive.

Discovering Flow

Psychology has a word for this: flow. The state where action and awareness merge, time feels different, and the sense of “me” fades. You’re simply doing, fully absorbed. Flow can happen in almost any sport — in running, climbing, surfing, even motorcycling — anywhere you’re fully engaged, challenged yet safe enough to let go.

From Exercise to a Way of Life

Kitesurfing taught me presence through intensity. Later, yoga taught me how to stay there — even off the water. For a long time, yoga had been more of a fitness routine than a life practice. Only when I returned to it did I discover its deeper side: breath as an anchor, movement as awareness, stillness as integration. What started as “exercise” became a way of inhabiting life.

What the Wind Taught My Nervous System

On a nervous-system level, these two practices complement each other. Kitesurfing fires up the sympathetic system — heart racing, focus sharpened, muscles alive. Yet because it happens in a safe context, the body can rebound naturally into deep calm afterwards. That was what began to pull me out of the overstressed state I had been trapped in: my nervous system was re-learning how to regulate, how to shift between activation and rest. Yoga does almost the opposite: long exhales, grounded postures, slow awareness. It activates the parasympathetic system directly, shifting us into rest-and-digest. Together, they create a full circle of regulation: rising into presence, and softening back into balance.

Learning to Live With the Wind

Kitesurfing also brought frustration. The wind has a mind of its own — it doesn’t care about your plans. One day it carries you, the next it drops you flat. At first, I fought against that. Later, yoga helped me see it differently: some days are simply not the days to go out. In yoga philosophy, this is Santosha — contentment with what is — and Abhyasa — steady effort over time. Psychology might call it self-regulation: knowing when to lean into challenge, and when to step back. Both ocean and mat remind me that presence isn’t about forcing the moment, but about moving with what’s already here.

A gentle reflection to close

Some days the wind carries you, other days it keeps you on shore. Both are part of the practice. Presence is not about forcing the moment — it’s about knowing when to lean in, and when to wait. In that, the ocean and the mat teach the same lesson.