Rowboat.

plodding along a flat lake. Eyes resting for not even a minute, only to find ones self atop a tsunami. Checking the watch again for dawn had came to pass. How was this possible? Boat borderline unstable and hastly splitting, twas only a matter of moments before this fisherman would crash to the ocean floor. In a blink yet again, waking facing the noon sun. No recurrence of last night's disturbance. Debris everywhere, boat bashed to blisters, tomahawks of teak tarnished the flesh upon thy arms. Ajolted by this journeys seeming end, our captain dwindles reminiscing his boat to which was now kindle. A short assembly later he's off again, feeling numb about the journey continuing, again and again.

Life is the water, you are the boat bound to follow by buoyancy.