The Ocean Isn’t Yours, Bro

By Ahmed Aznil
5 min read · Published on 5/13/2025

 

Respect isn’t about where you’re from. It’s how you show up.

I’ve seen a lot of ego in the lineup lately. Locals storming the peak. Tourists snaking each other. Everyone acting like the ocean owes them something. But the ocean doesn’t belong to you. It doesn’t belong to me either.

Here’s how I paddle out. Every single time. This is how I approach Cokes from Thulusdhoo. It’s the same route I’ve taken for years, and it’s become more than just a path it’s part of the rhythm.

I always paddle out from the furthest point from the break. I’m talking from the beach, inside the lagoon, out through the channel. The one with no waves breaking. That’s around 700 meters of paddling, floating, drifting. And I know I’ve arrived when the telephone tower lines up perfectly with the coconut palm tree. That’s my marker. That’s where I sit first.

For me, it’s not just a paddle. It’s observation. Warm-up. Meditation. I want to see the waves from a distance. Approach them slowly. Feel the rhythm before I ever think about catching one.

I watch how the sets move. How the peak is lining up. Is it connecting to the next section? Are the inside sections makeable? What’s the crowd like? Are they charging or just flinching?

It’s a slow paddle. A sync. I’m not in a hurry. I just want to understand what’s happening out there before I become part of it.

When I reach the inside section, I sit. I observe. I watch how people surf. Who’s dropping in on others. Who’s scared. Who’s smooth. Who’s just trying too hard.

Even while I’m scanning, my eyes are always searching for one. That inside runner where I can crack my bones on a wipeout or just feel the power of the ocean.

When I’m done with that first one, I paddle back out. Slowly. Sometimes with one arm. Let the current do its thing. I’m in no rush.

By now, others are passing me. Most have taken one or two waves. They smile, I smile. You know the vibe. No tension.

When I get closer to the peak where ten guys are sitting, I mentally put myself in a queue. I watch. Wait. I don’t sit deeper. I don’t paddle around anyone. I let them go.

When they’ve all had their wave. That’s when I know it’s my turn.

I don’t say anything. I don’t announce myself. If it’s not the wave I want, I let it go. But when the one comes, I paddle with purpose.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a local or a tourist. I’ve earned that wave with respect, not with words. And if someone wants to call it a drop-in? Let them.

I know what I came here for. And I know how I came for it.

The problem isn’t just localism. It’s ego. From every side.

Locals acting like they were born with priority. Tourists thinking their money buys them a better spot. Guides who don’t say a word when someone burns the whole lineup.

It’s all the same vibe. Me first.

But the truth is, we’ve all been there. Missed someone on the inside. Thought we had it. Didn’t look properly. So when someone drops in on me, I don’t flip out. I smile and say it’s all good. Maybe he didn’t see me. Maybe he thought I couldn’t make it. It happens.

But if he does it again, I don’t smile. I wait till he’s back in the lineup, paddle over, and speak to him face to face. Calm. Private. No audience. I’ll just say, “Don’t do it again, man.” That’s it. No lecture. No drama.

He gets the message. No one gets humiliated. And the lineup stays intact.

Because the second you start yelling, the energy shifts. It’s done. The whole vibe is off. You can’t surf the same after that. No one can.

Even though I’m a local, I don’t want to be the lineup police. I’ve done that. I’ve thrown punches before. I’ve been in fights. That was me years ago. Not anymore.

Now I surf with patience. With presence. I take it all in before I make a move. And when it’s my turn, you’ll feel it. Without me needing to say a word.

You want to fix the lineup? Paddle out with respect. Stay present. Don’t be a hero. Don’t be a ghost. Be aware.

The ocean doesn’t belong to any of us. It never did. But the way we enter it, the way we carry ourselves once we’re in… that tells you everything. That’s the part we own. And it either adds to the lineup or poisons it.

You choose what kind of surfer you want to be. Every damn time you paddle out.