Drinking In The Ocean


You can't tell where the noises are coming from. There are snaps. Cracks. Dim engine roars. Your breath. Your breath is perhaps the loudest. Almost Darth Vader sounding. But, deep. Slow. Calm.

I was 16 the first time I donned a wet suit, mask and regulator. It was a whole new world - the sights, the sounds, the feeling around me. But comforting. It still felt natural.

Scuba diving made snorkeling seem like a kindergarten level way of experiencing the ocean.

Scuba diving is practically meditation. You feel weightless. You breathe slow deep breaths in a rhythmic way to get the most out of your air tank. When you have enough practice, you can control your buoyancy with only your breath.

You watch the schools of fish swim. Turning with each other. Completely in tune with everyone’s motions. Turtles chomp on the coral. Crabs slowly walking. Claws pinching at whatever is passing by. Or perhaps just the bubbles. Everything in harmony with rhythm of the water. Even if there were a storm overheard, you wouldn’t even know.

My dive instructors comment on how calm I am under water. It’s hard for me to admit it, but I can’t stand not having control of a situation. It’s why I would sooner apologize for something that I had nothing to do with – because it’s easier to take control that way. In the ocean, deep under the way, you’re reliant on an air tank and a man-made contraption to keep you alive. It’s the only time I can give up all control and just appreciate what’s around me.   

In yoga, especially during shavasana, my mind is constantly going. I’m thinking about the next move, after class activities, why didn’t I bring water to class, what move made my quad hurt this much now…

But in the ocean. I have nothing but my breathing and the sensation around me. It clears my mind.  If you think you feel like life is better after a bath or shower, imagine that but times about 100.

So. Release me to ocean. So I can remember to breathe and put things into perspective.