into the blue
it is no secret that i have a love for the ocean—i’m currently in research mode for the perfect image to recreate permanently in ink on my upper right arm, that’s how devout my love is.
and it is no secret that my love affair with scuba diving is not a fleeting one. sure, i haven’t touched ocean waves since last summer and yeah, chicago is not a mecca for underwater marine life of the tropical order, but hopefully at some point in my life, my reunion will be a permanent one.
in the meantime, i have flashbacks and fond memories and even some photographic evidence of my time spent at depth. like going to the recreational max of 130 feet below, hovering over two tugboats that had been intentionally sunk to make an artificial reef. the first time i saw them looming in the distance, it was a sight to behold as i continued to descend as fast as my ears would allow. and there they were, within arm’s reach. i longed to go just a bit further, though i exercised caution—my diving buddies were far more experienced and went to the base of the boats, which sat on a shelf at about 160 below. and beyond the shelf was infinity…
it’s the infinity part that, in truth, scares the piss out of me at times. with 70 some odd dives under my belt during my paltry two years of certification, i am certainly no expert though i do consider myself relatively adept. i know my body and its boundaries, and i know that when i look out into the blue, a sense of uncertainty overwhelms me. and in the beginning, that uncertainty was just plain nausea.
because in the blue, there is no definition of space. there are no coordinates for direction (unless you sport a compass, obviously). there is nothing to focus on except the microscopic organisms and debris that float right up to your mask. and what’s worse is knowing that below you there is seemingly no end…
many of my fellow divers would go out into the blue, hover and meditate. after all, diving with perfect buoyancy under perfect conditions is undeniably spiritual. i’ve felt it. but not in the blue.
i stick close to the reef, where aquatic creatures reside, where i can participate in their habitat for 45 minutes, wondering what it’s like to live below the surface without life support strapped to my back. where i wonder what it must be like to be a tiny blenny, hiding out in a big head of coral.
i admire the tranquility of it all with only occasional streams of bubbles from my exhalation breaking a near silence. there is something to be said for the sound of breath, the sound of life, if you will, being the loudest element around you among a sea of so much.