A Dummy's Guide to Scuba Diving

I dived. I breathed. I conquered. Every moment of that aquatic dream is still alive in my head. Yet, I somehow couldn't bring myself to pen it down and give it a squiggly shape. I assumed it was because of my neurotic laziness but today it struck me - I didn't write about the experience so far because I didn't want to simply describe it as a series of actions that acts as a tourist bible or an adventurous advertisement or a blogger's babble. Actually, I couldn't fathom the correct way to showcase it. But today, in the depths of my deep sighs, I know the right path - the light at the end of the tunnel has illuminated its walls and lo and behold !, a silver shoe glitters on the railway track - let my heart guide my words, as my thoughts float to the surface lazily but defiantly.

The dive will always represent phenomena that I never knew existed.

The phenomenon of hearing your breath as a living creature in itself - do you know how loud, how impatient, how magnificent your breath truly is? As you inhale and exhale, baby bubbles do their drunken dance and collide with sun drops creating a visual representation of your respiration. You suck air from the oxygen tube like it is your last gasp of air - your nose is silent and your mouth does all the hard work. And when your mouth gets tired and dry after only a few minutes of excercise, you finally thank the lord for creating that pyramid on your face, standing tall with two gateways, - nose and nostrils hurrah!

The phenomenon of feeling like a humbled outsider - having entered into a world to which you do not naturally belong, you behave like a nervous guest, excited to be invited and apprehensive about fitting in. As the fish swim around you, you feel judged - as much as you admire their colors and strokes, you know that you are the one being scrutinized today. And for the first time as a human being on this planet, you take every step with care, careful so as to not disturb the awe-inspiring beauty around you - to which you have frankly contributed nothing. You are there just as a mere spectator, watch and leave.

The phenomenon of feeling so light and incredibly heavy at the same time. As the pressure of the depths fights to keep you out of its emerald chambers, the pain in your ear is the weight of the world. You are taught to 'swallow and exhale' but no amount of 'equalizing the pressure' will remove the heaviness that threatens to push you straight up, out of the watery world. And then there's the lightness - of your limbs, your muscles. When you focus on your hands, your feet cease to exist. And when its time to move those flippers, your hands have vanished and you really don't know what purpose they are meant to serve. And when you absorb the view through your sponge like head, body-amnesia gets the better of you and all that you are for one split second, is one happily floating head.

The phenomenon of silence, of struggle and peace, of staying alert and succumbing to dreams all in the same moment - of finally accepting that the sky of the fishes is a tad bit bluer than our horizon. You wonder why the coral reef look more alive than the fish, you wonder if civilization began with the drowning of an artist who splashed his multi-hued paintbrush around while struggling to stay afloat - splattering a thousand fish with a million colors in the process. You wonder where the fish are going, you wonder where your life is headed, you wonder why you are alive to begin with. You wonder at creation as you brush past destruction.

So much to wonder about, so much to surrender to, your mind is racing and awfully still at the same time - as you drift uncontrollably, all in a whirlpool moment of a Scuba Dive.