"Just Float"
Out of India we went. Our visas were no longer valid. Each year the
volunteers leave the country after six months in order to reenter and
stay for the next 180-day span. The last week of February signified
the halfway mark for our year; our week away was an essential time to
regroup, rejuvenate and refocus. Past volunteers have spent their
'visa-renewal-getaway' in Sri Lanka, but with the rising violence and
after several anxious parental emails to Achen, we spent our week in
Maldives, a small country south of India.
Quick facts about Maldives: it is 100% Muslim, there are over 1000
islands that form the country, and being a tropical paradise, most
islands are converted into resorts, thus making it Tourism-Central.
Thus, a piece of bologna costs $10. On sale. Thus, our first episode
of "Maldives on a Dime" will be airing soon.
Nevertheless, the country is breathtaking with its white beaches, its
clear, bright ocean, and its salty breeze, both warm and relaxing.
Stepping off the plane was like stepping into a postcard: a picture
perfect paradise that you try to capture on film, but the best shot
remains the one in your memory.
Throughout the week we found plenty of adventures: local shops to
investigate, restaurants to try, a new culture and religion to
understand, and an ocean to soak up. Yet, one of our favorite
adventures was spent snorkeling over a coral reef.
After much investigation, we finally landed a spot on a local
outfitter that suits up scuba divers and snorkelers. With great
excitement and anticipation at what lay ahead, we eagerly loaded the
ferry that carried a dozen other snorkelers, as well as a dozen scuba
divers, most of whom were other tourists. During the boat ride to the
dive in point, I became quite aware that my inexperience and complete
lack of knowledge of snorkeling might be a rare commodity; everyone on
that boat released an air of confidence saying that diving into the
depths of the ocean goes next to brushing one's teeth on the day's
to-do list. I tried my best to air a confidence, but the thousand
questions I was asking Rob and Beth, the ones with previous snorkeling
experience, may have blown my breeze.
What if my goggles fog?
Rob, my goggles are fogging now.
They'll get fogged in the ocean, won't they?
That can't be good.
Rob.
Oh my, Rob. I can't see a thing.
My goggles are fogged. How will I see the fish?
Oh, what if the goggles are full of water?
What then? How will I see the fish?
Rob, what if this tubey-thingy gets full of water?
How will I breathe?
How will I see the fish if I can't breathe?
His patience and understanding with us was incredible. Though the
boat was trolling around, waiting for us to jump in, Rob ran over the
essentials, checked us over, and we dove in. What we missed in our
'Snorkeling: a Cliff Note Basics' speech, was to be soon learned.
When I first entered the water, the beauty was breathtaking. The
vastness of the ocean and the oneness I felt with creation was enough
to want to stay bobbing up and down in its waves all day.
But, then, I realized I was bobbing up and down.
The boat pulled away, and I saw the vastness of the ocean. Its real
vastness. Its hugeness. Its incredibly, huge, real vastness. And I
remembered I was only a little head, bobbing up and down.
Trying not to think of my insignificant, bobbing head, I tried to
refocus my attention. I jammed my goggles down, shoved the breathing
tube between my teeth and dropped my head down. Perhaps if I focus on
this whole snorkeling thing, I justified, I will forget that I'm
floating in the Indian Ocean.
First breath.
Mouth full of salt water. I jerked my head to the surface, half
swallowing half spitting all that I had inhaled. Trying to regain my
breath, which was becoming more and more needed as the sea-tredding
was becoming tiring, I found myself panicking further as my goggles
kept my nose plugged and the waves kept crashing over the tube,
filling it with water. I had one last resort. Rob.
Rob!Rob!OhMyGoodnessOhMyGoodnessThisIsn'tWorkingICan'tBreatheThereAreNoFishBecauseICan'tSeeAThingBecauseICan'tBreatheOhMyGoodnessOhMyGoodness...
As he swam by, he turned his head, and simply said, "Just float.
Relax. Put your face in. And just float."
Easier said then done, but it was my only option. I had to relax.
And I had to float. I had to stop resisting the ocean's waves, and
let myself be taken by them. There was no other way. My tredding
water, my need to want to control the sea, was only causing me to sink
further into unjustified anxiety and fear. I had to let go. And
float.
I held my breath. Put my face under the surface, and felt my body
rise to the top. At this, I exhaled from the tube and sucked in. No
water. Just air. As my body rose and sank in rhythm with the waves,
so did my breathing. Ah, I could breathe. So I opened my eyes.
No peptalk or preparation could have prepared me for all that lay underneath.
Fish, brightly speckled with oranges, yellows and blues. Coral
covering the entire seabed, and hiding the thousands of creatures that
call it home. Fish as big as my turso swimming about, not noticing
me, the intruder, on top.
It was a sacred moment. I was watching a part of creation from a
distance, yet I felt a part of it simply by observing. The sealife
kept on with its routines, its comings and goings, not in the least
disturbed by my watching. Yet, I was witnessing a part of God's
creation I never knew existed in such a capacity. Its beauty,
strength, majesty, its complexity, yet simplicity, was captivating.
I soon forgot about my bobbing head anxiety, as the mystery of what
lay below the surface was more important than the worries that
remained on the surface. The unknown danger of the ocean quickly
decimated with the awesomeness of all that was unknown and unseen
within it.
And to think, I would have missed it if I had refused to just float.
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