Wow, that was one freaky dream. Mike rolled over and smashed the alarm clock off. Fuck! I'm late again, he thought. As the daily show host on WCBC FM, being late would not go unnoticed.

Rolling out of bed, he barely missed kissing the floor good morning in his rush. He had slept in his jeans again, maybe that's why he had had such a rough night, he thought as he looked down over his naked chest at his rumpled jeans. He was starting to gain a few specks of grey in his dark chest hair and his belly was showing signs of a slight pouch too, he mused.

"Too many late nights and beer," he said out loud as he grabbed a t-shirt from the pile of laundry on his chair. It was a green t-shirt with "Jesus Walks" written in bold across the front. "Kanye has been in the news lately for so much controversy that I am bound to get the ladies talking with this one," he smiled.

He gave the shirt a good sniff; not bad, he thought, it's wearable. As he yanked the shirt down, he felt his bushy beard and sighed, 'I'm getting too old for this shit,' he thought tiredly. He pulled a rubber band from around his wrist, tied up his locs in a high ponytail, and ran out the door.

Still in a bit of a daze, he made his way down the street to catch the J train. Living in the heart of the city meant he only had one stop before he would be downtown at the WCBC FM station. The train arrived, and its doors opened to spew out the normal stream of people heading to work in the morning rush hour, but this time something was off.

Not to brag or anything, normally he would have had ladies greeting him with "grand rising, king" and looks of admiration or respect from the brothers. With his fit body and 6.9 height, he was intimidating to the other races. But his good looks intrigued them at the same time.

Looking around at the other passengers, he realized all the black people were all in a sort of daze, a bit like him. They all seemed to be deep in a trance, caught up in a web of their own thoughts. The other races were not fazed though, most of the white men would frown when they looked at him, some white women clutched their belongings tightly while others gave him come hither looks. As usual, he ignored them and soon drifted off into a daze of his own, contemplating his dream.

The brisk cold hit him like a slap in the face after the sultry heat of the underground. Fuck, it's cold, Mike said, realizing he had forgotten a jacket in his haste. This time of year at the Cape, you could not guarantee what the weather would be like. It could just as easily be bright and sunny one minute and have freezing rain the very next minute. Mike gritted his teeth and wrapped his arms around his torso for warmth, then hot-footed it down the block. His long strides made mincemeat of the two block walk and with the biting cold as motivation, he made it there in less than 10 minutes.

"What's good, my man?" James, the plump rosy-cheeked doorman, said as he held open the door for Mike.

"It's all good," Mike responded, shaking his hand and giving him a shoulder hug at the same time. As James was much shorter than Mike, he had to bend over quite a bit to accomplish this, huffing as he did so, both from exertion and the cold.

"They have been on the hunt for you for the past 30 minutes," James said. Mike grimaced in reply and took off towards the elevator. He punched 11 and hoped he'd make it into the studio before Karen from HR asked him for a talk.

Just as he expected, as the elevator doors opened, the very trendy Bess, the receptionist, raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow as she read his shirt and made a tutting sound. Mike grinned and headed to the studio. The coast was clear, he slipped into his seat, slapped Pete's hand in greeting, turned on the on-air sign, and got to work.

"You are now listening to DJ Mike the monster on the morning rush show. Big thanks to Lady Jess for holding it down during the early morning segment. It's now time to get pumped for the day. You know what time it is! Time to scare the morning blues away with Mike the monster, aka DJ Mike aka Mufasa!

Starting us off, I have a question for you guys: Have y'all ever had a dream that felt so real that you just couldn't shake it? Call in, and share with us, you know the drill 1800-CALL-MIKE! Let's start off with Coldplay's 'Whisper'."

Tap tap! Mike looks up to see Karen tapping the glass screen with her pen and signalling him to step out. With resignation, he turns on the off-air sign, the song continues to play, nods to Pete, and steps out into the hallway.

I never imagined that my greatest lessons would be learned not in a classroom or boardroom, but on a quiet farm, where the sound of the wind moving through the trees was the only teacher I needed. The farm belonged to my grandfather, a man of few words but endless wisdom. His hands, worn by decades of hard labour, had a gentle strength that both built and healed.

Every summer, I would spend weeks with him, following him through the fields, watching him work, and asking more questions than he had time to answer. There was something about the way he moved through the world—calm, steady, and purposeful—that fascinated me. His life was not easy, but it was full of meaning.

It was during one of those long, hot summer days that I learned the lesson that would change my life. We were sitting on the porch after a hard day's work, the sun dipping low behind the hills, casting a golden glow over the fields. My grandfather sat in his old rocking chair, his hat tipped low over his brow. I could see the deep lines etched into his face, each one telling a story I hadn't yet heard.

"Grandpa," I asked, "how did you keep going all these years? Through everything?"

He took a long pause, as if weighing his answer carefully. Then, with a voice as rough as the earth beneath our feet, he said, "It's not about what happens to you, son. It's about how you choose to stand when it does."

That was it. A simple answer, yet it hit me with the weight of a thousand truths. Life wasn't about waiting for the perfect moment or avoiding hardship. It was about resilience—about standing up, no matter how many times you fall.

As I grew older, and the complexities of life began to unfold—losing loved ones, struggling to find my purpose, facing challenges I never saw coming—I would often think back to those summers. To that porch. To that lesson.

It wasn't long before I realised that my grandfather's quiet strength had become my own. That, like him, I was learning to stand through life's storms, building a legacy not of wealth or power, but of perseverance and grace.

Life mirrors the sea, its tides ebbing and flowing in perpetual rhythm. This ceaseless movement reminds us of an eternal truth: nothing in this reality is permanent. Joy and hardship alike are fleeting, weaving through existence like waves. When life is abundant and bright, do not anchor yourself in arrogance or presume superiority. Instead, embrace gratitude for the momentary calm. Be present. Savour the blessings fully, for nature offers no warning of the next shift or the depth of the plunge that might follow.

When life plunges into the depths, resist the urge to despair or envy the seemingly greener pastures of others. Remember, the grass is only as green as the care it receives. Rather than escaping your struggle, face it with resolve. Every low holds a lesson, a seed of growth waiting to bloom. If ignored, life will repeat the trial, its whispers growing louder until the lesson is understood. Running from it is futile; it only delays the inevitable. Learn quickly, and the tide will turn more swiftly.

Those who grasp this truth are like surfers mastering the waves of life. They balance atop their boards, flowing with the current, cutting through the tumult with grace and ease. Even the largest wave does not daunt them; they have learned how to ride its power. They surrender to the flow, neither fleeing nor fighting. When the wave subsides, they glide effortlessly, their landing steady. Unlike those paralyzed by fear or struggling against the tide, they are not crushed or dragged under. They rise more swiftly, unbroken.

Life rewards those who let go and learn. The sea will always move, but how we choose to navigate its waves defines whether we sink, struggle, or soar.