Audrey dreamt she was surfing on an enormous ocean wave, intimidating yet alluring and hypnotic. The water sparkled like aquamarine crystals under a breathtaking sky, with not a speck of cloud on its expansive dome. A gentle sun radiated warm and easy, like a late springtime morning. She’d never learned to surf but it didn’t seem to matter; she coasted smoothly and effortlessly, her feet seemingly glued to the surfboard. She marvelled at her balance, at the ease with which she could carve waves to and fro. She even threaded a perfect barrel, like a photo on a Hawaiian postcard. The live ocean mist sprayed refreshing dewy droplets upon her tingling body. She felt calm yet excited, exhilarated, alive … more alive, in fact, than she had felt in a long long time. She was having fun. She was happy. She had not been this happy in a very long time. Yes, she was alive and she was happy. She vaguely recalled her breakup, the despondency, the desperation of failure, the aftermath of depression. Perhaps she had invested too much emotion, too much dependence and faith, on someone who was never wired for the role. Maybe she had looked too hard to fill the empty space left behind by her beloved father’s departure. Maybe she had expected too much from a guy whose main goal in life seemed more about thrills than substance. It had been painful, but probably not any more so than that of other failed couples. Was it a bad thing though, she wondered? As she swerved again on her board, relaxed, philosophical, she asked herself once more. Was it really a bad thing? The process was an inevitable byproduct of necessity, like eating from hunger, like drinking from thirst … the instinct to love and, when failing, moving on and loving again, someday. When two people were not right for each other, it was more painful to struggle against the winds of incompatibility than to yield to the flowing currents of separation. It was over now, done with. The pain was gone, along with sadness and anxiety. Was this what surfing did to people – teach and soothe? Is this why big waves were called kahunas? She felt at peace now, filled with gratitude, for turning the chapter, for a chance to savor a new life, for being able to fling herself into the next unknown, the adventure of open skies and open seas.

She looked down, first at her luminous board, gleaming in creamy white, and then through the transparent waters below, at a school of tropical fish swimming alongside. Had they been there all along? They were tiny, colourful, like pebbled sweets at a candy store. They seemed happy, like her. Many kept leaping in and out of the water, twisting and flapping in the air like mini dolphins at a sea park. One of them, dressed in wide bands of purple and gold, sprung higher than any other fish and looked Audrey in the eye. It was now floating in the air, defying gravity, ignoring convention, gliding merrily alongside Audrey’s surfing board.

“Where are you going?” it asked in a squeaky voice. “Where are you going?” The little purple and gold fish was speaking to Audrey.

She blinked. She was being addressed by a fish. “Sorry … what?”

“Where … are you going?” the fish insisted.

She blinked again. The fish appeared to be smiling. Could fish smile? “I’m not sure,” she replied. “Why … where are you going?”

“I’m going where I want to go,” it answered, giggling.

“Is that, like … some kind of Zen answer?”

“Not sure what you mean by that. It’s just an obvious answer. Would I want to go where I don’t want to go?”

“So when will you get there?” asked Audrey.

“I don’t know, but that’s okay. As long as I have a direction, I know where I’m going. When I get there is not so important.”

She couldn’t decide whether the fish was wise or just simple-minded … or perhaps both. Maybe wisdom and simplicity were preludes to common sense, a trait not as common as commonly perceived.

“So where are you going?” repeated the fish.

“Not everyone can go where they want to go,” she protested. “People have responsibilities, duties and commitments and …” She paused, uncertain about her own convictions. “People have fears and hang-ups and … too many doubts.”

“Just go where you want to go, Audrey,” it suggested. “Go where you want to go.”

She got the idea, though acting on it wouldn’t be easy. It entailed a lot of honesty, especially to oneself. “I want to go … where I can be happy. Can happiness be a destination?”

“Going where you want to go is more about direction than destination,” said the fish. “Direction is a journey, while destination is but a moment. When you reach happiness, will you not continue on the same course? And if you encounter obstacles along the way, does it mean you should reverse course and go where you don’t want to go? Moments of joy and moments of sorrow are stations along the journey, and they should have no bearing upon the direction of where you want to go. You will not be lost if you have a direction.”

Audrey nodded. “So happiness is a direction, rather than a destination. I think I get it.”

“Smart girl …”

She felt relieved, lighter. Thank goodness for the little fish, she thought. “Are you, like, some kind of a little guardian angel?” she asked.

“Not sure what a guardian angel looks like ... I’m guessing it doesn’t look like a fish.”

“Pearls of wisdom from a little fish. This is pretty crazy.”

“Not really. You can learn from anyone if you keep an open mind. Would it be any different if I was a priest or a penguin? Would the words change in their meaning?”

“What about bad advice, then?” she asked. “There’s just as much bad advice as good advice out there.”

“It is you who decided that my words were good advice; you made the choice. The real fountain of wisdom is within each of us and it talks to us if we listen. We are simply reminded of what we already know by others, from time to time. This voice of wisdom, our conscience, often goes unheeded through no fault but our own. We often heed other voices within us; pride, hatred, avarice, for example, which competein our thoughts. But, of course, you already know all this.”

“Sounds almost religious.”

“If religion helps you clarify your conscience, it must be a good thing. But being a fish, I wouldn’t really know. I don’t need help listening to myself.”

Audrey smiled. “That must be why fish spend less time talking and more time listening.”

“Bingo.”

Audrey really liked the little fish. “I hope we can be friends. Maybe we can even see each other again.”

“Why, of course!”