I Used to Think Posture Advice Was Stupid
I always thought posture was one of those things people only talked about when they had no real problems.
Like, yeah cool, I’ll stand straighter and suddenly my taxes are done and my childhood is healed.
Amazing. Thank you, spine.
But then I started noticing something annoying. Whenever I felt insecure, my body was basically already giving up before I had even said anything.
Shoulders forward. Neck weirdly stiff. Eyes somewhere on the floor. Arms crossed like I was protecting a small invisible animal under my hoodie.
And the worst part was that I didn’t even notice it most of the time.
I would walk into a room thinking, “I hope this won’t be awkward,” while my body was already screaming, “Hello everyone, I am uncomfortable and would like to disappear into this wall.”
Very useful.
Your Body Is Part of the Conversation
There is this idea in many self improvement books that your body influences your mood.
At first, I always found that a bit too simple. I wanted the complicated answer. The deep psychological explanation. The 400-page book. The podcast with a neuroscientist and a guy selling mushroom coffee.
But sometimes the simple things are annoyingly real.
When you smile at someone, the first second changes. When you stand a bit more open, you usually breathe a bit better. When you stop staring at the floor, the world becomes slightly less threatening.
This does not mean you can fix your whole life with a smile. Please don’t become that person.
But your body and your mind are not two separate departments with different email addresses. They talk to each other all day.
If your body is tense, small, and closed, your mind often follows. And if you adjust the body a little, sometimes the mind gets the memo.
Not always immediately. Not like magic.
More like opening a window in a room that has been smelling weird for too long.
Smiling Is Underrated Because It Sounds Too Easy
Dale Carnegie wrote in How to Win Friends and Influence People that smiling is one of the simplest ways to make people feel welcome.
And I know. It sounds like advice from someone who also tells you to polish your shoes and write thank-you letters with a fountain pen.
But he had a point.
A real smile makes the first moment softer – more forgiving.
Especially in a surf camp.
At Kyuka, people arrive from different countries, often alone, sometimes a little tired, sometimes pretending they are not nervous. The first hour matters. A lot.
Someone walks into the house, sees a group of strangers at the table, and their brain immediately starts doing calculations.
Where do I sit?
Do they already know each other?
Am I underdressed?
Why did I say “hello” like that?
Was that normal?
Should I have hugged?
Why am I like this?
And then someone smiles. Just a normal human face saying, without words: you’re okay, come in.
That can change the whole first impression.
Posture Is Not About Acting Like a CEO on LinkedIn
The posture conversation gets weird very quickly.
Open your chest.
Take up space.
Power pose.
Dominate the room.
Relax, tiger. We’re just trying to eat breakfast.
I don’t think good posture is about looking powerful. At least that doesn’t interest me very much.
For me, it is more about catching myself when I’m slowly turning into a prawn.
Laptop back. Phone neck. Stress shoulders. The full modern human package.
And socially, it’s the same thing. When I feel insecure, my body starts negotiating before I do. It tries to become smaller. Safer. Less visible.
The problem is that confidence building becomes much harder when your body is constantly voting against you.
So I started paying attention.
Not obsessively. I’m not walking around with a ruler taped to my spine.
But enough to notice when I’m collapsing into myself.
Shoulders. Breath. Eyes. Jaw. Hands.
These little things say more than we think.
Surfing Is a Mean, picky Teacher
Surfing does not care about your self-image.
You can tell yourself you are athletic, relaxed, mentally strong, spiritually connected to the ocean, whatever you want.
Then a small wave comes, your legs panic, your arms do something completely illegal, and the board shoots away like it has filed for divorce.
Beautiful sport.
But that is exactly why surfing is such a good teacher.
It gives immediate feedback.
If your weight is too far back, the board slows down. If you look down, your body follows. If your shoulders are tense, paddling becomes exhausting. If you hold your breath, everything gets worse. If your pop-up is lazy, the wave is gone and you are left lying there like a wet sandwich.
You learn fast because the ocean doesn’t explain. It just answers.
And suddenly posture is not this abstract wellness topic anymore. It becomes practical.
Where is my chest when I paddle?
Am I looking where I want to go?
Can I relax my shoulders without becoming a noodle?
Why am I holding my breath like it will help me paddle faster?
Surfing makes you aware of your body because you have no other choice.
Confidence Building Without the Fake Confidence Part
I think a lot of confidence advice is useless because it asks people to pretend.
Act confident.
Speak louder.
Stand bigger.
Become the alpha version of yourself.
No thank you. I already have enough admin.
What helped me more was doing things that gave my body proof.
Surfing does that very well.
You paddle out even though you’re nervous. You fall. You come back up. You catch half a wave and celebrate like you just won an Olympic medal. You walk back to the beach completely destroyed and somehow proud.
This is confidence building in a way that feels less fake.
You don’t need to convince yourself that you are confident. You just did something uncomfortable and survived it.
Your body remembers that.
And after enough repetitions, your mind has a harder time selling you the old story that you can’t do things.
The Comfort Zone Growth Zone Thing, But Without the Cringe Diagram
There is this classic comfort zone growth zone idea.
You leave your comfort zone, enter the growth zone, learn something, become stronger, and eventually make your world a little bigger.
In theory, I like it.
In practice, people often explain it in a way that makes me want to move into a cave.
Because the comfort zone is not the enemy. I like comfort. Comfort is great. I love a good sofa. I love knowing where the coffee is. I love not having to introduce myself to 18 new people before breakfast (even though that might happen – surprise I live at a surf camp).
The problem starts when comfort becomes the only place we live.
That is where a surf camp experience can be interesting.
You are not thrown into complete chaos. There is structure. A house. Meals. Surf lessons. Hosts. A group. A plan for the week.
But inside that structure, small challenges appear everywhere.
You put on a wetsuit for the first time and feel like a sausage with ambitions.
You carry a surfboard and try not to hit three people with it.
You paddle into whitewater while questioning all your life choices.
You join a dinner table where you don’t know everyone yet.
You maybe dance, sing, train, hike, talk, laugh, or just do something slightly more open than you normally would.
None of these things need to be dramatic.
But they stack.
And that is usually how change works. Not one giant movie scene. More like a bunch of small moments where you don’t escape.
Authenticity Over Perfection Sounds Nice Until You Have Sand Everywhere
“Authenticity over perfection” is one of those phrases that can sound very Pinterest if you’re not careful.
But surfing gives it a very practical meaning.
You cannot look polished all the time in a surf camp.
Your hair will be strange. Your face will be salty. Your skin will be dry. Your shoulders will be tired. At some point you will probably walk through the house with sand in places where sand should not have citizenship.
And that is useful.
Because you stop managing your image so much.
At a surf camp in Fuerteventura, people see each other in very normal states. Hungry after surf. Tired after training. Half asleep at breakfast. Excited after catching a wave. A little awkward at the first dinner. More relaxed two days later.
That does something for the group.
The polished version becomes unnecessary.
And when that happens, the authentic you has a bit more space to come out.
Not as a emotional revelation. More like realizing, “Oh, I don’t have to control every second of how people see me.”
Why This Matters at a Surf Camp
When people search for a surf camp, they usually compare the obvious things first.
Surf lessons.
Rooms.
Location.
Food.
Activities.
Price.
Fair enough. I would do the same.
But the thing that often stays with people is harder to compare on a website.
It is the feeling of living in your body differently for a week.
You wake up and move. You surf. You eat with people. You stretch. You maybe train. You walk around with salty skin and tired arms. You stop checking yourself in mirrors every five minutes because there is either no time or you simply stop caring as much.
Fuerteventura helps with that. The island is dry, windy, sunny, raw, and a little bit dramatic. You don’t come here to wear your most complicated outfit.
You come here and the island basically says: here is wind, here is ocean, here is volcanic dust, good luck.
The island makes it harder to keep the costume on.
Your Face, Your Shoulders, Your Surfboard
I don’t think anyone should join a surf camp because they want better posture.
That would be a very strange booking reason.
“Hello, I would like seven nights and a more emotionally available thoracic spine.”
But as a side effect, surfing can make you much more aware of how you carry yourself.
You notice your shoulders when paddling.
You notice your breath when you panic.
You notice your balance when you stand up.
You notice your facial expression when someone takes photos and you look like you are fighting a ghost.
And little by little, this awareness follows you out of the water.
To the dinner table.
To conversations.
To how you walk into a room.
To whether you smile first or wait for someone else to make the moment safe.
That is where the whole thing becomes interesting.
Because posture is not only physical. It is social too.
Conclusion
I still don’t walk around like some posture monk. Half of the time I catch myself sitting like a folded camping chair, especially after too many hours on the laptop. But I notice it faster now. And that already helps. In the water even more, because surfing has absolutely no patience for your laptop spine.
The funny thing is, nobody sells it to you like a confidence lesson. Your surf instructor just tells you to look where you want to go, bend your knees, relax your shoulders, stop staring at your feet. Basic stuff. And then one day you realise that this basic stuff follows you out of the water as well. Into the house, into conversations, into how you enter a room. Annoying, honestly. I wanted surfing to just be a sport, and now apparently it’s also fixing my life.
