July 10, 2026, via email
JennySchiltz.org
Recently in Maui, I found myself watching a man in the ocean, and he immediately captured my attention.
Both of his forearms were supported by canes, and he was working with everything he had to stand against the force of the waves. Every movement required incredible effort. He would get himself partially upright, only to have another wave knock him back down. Then he would begin again, and again. It was brutal.
My first instinct was to run over and help him. Instead, I heard Spirit very quietly say, “No. Sit back and observe.” So I did.
Standing nearby was his partner. She watched every attempt. She was close enough to help if it became necessary, but she never stepped in to rescue him. As I continued watching, I was shown something beautiful.
Spirit shared with me that he had recently suffered a debilitating stroke and was using the ocean as his rehab. He wasn’t just trying to stand in the ocean; he was rebuilding his brain. He was using the resistance of the water and the challenge of balancing against an unpredictable force of waves to create new pathways around the areas in his brain damaged by the stroke. They shared with me that his sheer tenacity and stubbornness were accelerating his healing.
I continued observing as people kept walking over to his partner, offering to help. She politely declined every time. As they walked away, I could hear the whispers. “How can she just stand there?” “This is dangerous.” “Why isn’t she helping him?”
Some sounded compassionate, others judgmental, but underneath, they were all UNCOMFORTABLE.
Eventually, he made it slowly out of the surf. With both canes planted in the sand, he worked his way across the beach, up the stairs, to the outdoor shower, and finally toward their vehicle.
Nothing about it looked easy. I sat there completely in awe. Many people, after experiencing something that life-changing, might decide their story is over. They might accept the LIMITATIONS placed before them. This man had made a different decision. He had decided that as long as there was breath in his body, he would keep rebuilding it.
As I watched him, I realized that what made people so uncomfortable wasn’t simply the possibility that he could fall or drown. It was the act of witnessing another human being struggle. There is something within us that wants to stop SUFFERING the moment we see it, to smooth it over, to fix it, to make it easier.
We tell ourselves we’re helping, but often, what everyone was really trying to fix was their own DISCOMFORT. Watching him fight for every inch of progress required them to sit with uncertainty and trust a process they couldn’t fully understand, which is far more difficult.
It made me think about how often, in our discomfort, we jump in to save or help, thinking we are doing a good thing when, in fact, we are STOPPING someone’s process. It reminds me of how many times, over the years, Spirit has said, “Softer lessons equal longer lessons.” It has been a beautiful thing to remember, as a mom and as a practitioner.
I also reflected on the judgment the wife received for allowing her mate to take part in the intense physical therapy. How many times do we jump in not only to ease our discomfort, but because we think we SHOULD based on how society will look at us?
Then I contemplated on this deep EMBODIMENT journey we are on and the enormity of discomfort we experience. How often do we do things to stop the discomfort because we have judged it as BAD or something to be fixed? Instead of sitting in the process, we may stop it with distraction, numbing, even worry and fear. We step away from the very experience that asks us to remain PRESENT and work through it.
This creates a LOOP, a stop and a start that is exhausting and often defeating. In our attempt to make things softer, we are, in fact, making them longer.
It struck me that this man wasn’t growing stronger despite the waves. The waves were part of the rehabilitation. Every time they knocked him off balance, his brain had to find another way. Every time he fought to stand again, new pathways were being strengthened. The struggle wasn’t preventing the healing; rather, it was the CATALYST for it.
GROWTH asks something of our nervous system. It asks us to stay present when every instinct wants to run, to remain open when we would rather close down. Most importantly, it asks us to tolerate uncertainty long enough for something NEW to emerge.
It would be nice to think that healing is peaceful and pretty beginning to end, but it’s not. Sometimes it is downright brutal and ugly. It has to stretch our capacity, bust us out of the COCOON of what our nervous system thinks it can safely hold.
So many of us are UNCOMFORTABLE right now. Old identities are dissolving, beliefs are being questioned, and light is being shown into our darkest corners. Our Relationships are changing, with ourselves and others. So much feels uncertain right now, and our instinct is to make the discomfort stop as quickly as possible.
Yet this incredibly potent time is asking us NOT to escape the discomfort. It is asking us to become larger than it by staying present with it; trusting our SOUL to guide us through this process.
What feels uncomfortable today may be the very force EXPANDING our capacity to hold more life, truth, love, and our true being.
The man in the ocean reminded me that healing doesn’t always arrive wrapped in comfort. Sometimes it arrives as waves that knock us down over and over again until we discover that we can, in fact, stand again.
It is not that the waves become gentler; it is that our brain creates new pathways around the old.
Sending you all lots of love,
Jenny