"You Can't Stop the Waves, But You Can Learn How to Surf"
I've used this Jon Kabat-Zinn quote countless times in my presentations, conversations and keynotes with leaders, with an image of Layne Beachley, seven-time world champion surfer.
It is a wonderful quote and a beautiful image of an athlete in their element.
I understand enough about Layne’s story to know that both the element itself, the surf, and life when she isn’t in her element, have been deeply challenging.
Yes, her courage in competition was legendary. But it's a different kind of bravery she demonstrates now - the willingness to cross that bridge of vulnerability. The truth is clear: there's no authenticity without vulnerability, and no vulnerability without courage.
There are people you meet, and you feel good about them. Then there are people you meet, and you feel good about you. Layne Beachley is the latter. From the moment we sat down to talk, she created a space where sharing her story whilst showing a deep interest in mine and those in the room, felt natural, even necessary. It's a rare gift - making others feel good about themselves through genuine care rather than convenience.
The Kabat-Zinn quote speaks to something fundamental about leadership - that we can't control every challenge that comes our way, but we can develop the wisdom to navigate them. While the metaphor has always resonated, Layne Beachley's story brings its meaning to life.
"I'm a helper, not a healer," she says - a distinction that crystallises something profound about leadership.
"No one sees the shit you go through," she shares, "they just see the outcome and think it was easy." Behind those seven world titles lies a story that speaks to anyone who's found themselves in the arena, facing challenges beyond their perceived capacity to cope.
Her journey illuminates the path - winning her first world title from a place of love, then five driven by fear, before returning to love for her seventh and final championship. After her sixth consecutive title, her body said 'enough' through adrenal fatigue and exhaustion. Yet still she pushed: "Let's do this again, let's keep going." It took a neck injury and MRI results to force a reckoning.
Then comes the deeper truth: "I had a massive fear of rejection from being told I was adopted as an eight-year-old. The story I'd wrapped around that was that I'm worthless, I'm undeserving of love, and I must win to be worthy of love."
These days, Layne talks about her "dream team" - that small group of trusted people who help her stay aligned with her truth. "If I'm encountering challenge from either of them, then I know there's something that needs to change," she explains. "But if it comes from someone I've never known and will never speak to, they're entitled to their opinion, and I'm entitled to ignore it."
Her approach to sharing wisdom is illuminating: "I aim to serve. I aim to shine a light. I don't aim to tell or preach." She creates that same space of care she offers others - where authentic connection becomes possible because someone has been brave enough to go first.
The metaphor of surfing carries a truth for all leaders: you can't stop the waves - those challenges and moments of doubt will come. But you can learn how to surf them.
Layne Beachley shows that our greatest impact often comes not from having all the answers, but from sharing our struggles with generosity and hope. In choosing to be a helper rather than a healer, she demonstrates what authentic leadership looks like - creating space for others to find their own path while continuing to learn and grow ourselves.
This is what a relationship of care looks like. It's what leadership at its best can be.
In The Arena 