My Home

Slowly, I open my eyes and watch the air bubbles dance up to the surface of the water. They remind me of my days as a ballerina, leaping from one side to the other, getting higher and higher each time. The ripples are like the stage lights, acting like a prism, deflecting the sunlight and creating a multitude of colors all around me. I contemplate the hazards of free diving, jumping into the sea without anything other than a safety line, but the salty smell and the glitter of the coral pulls me closer. The thrill of this spot never ceases to amaze me; the call of the sea life is constant, growing louder with each passing moment that I am away. If I could, I would stay here forever, gaining all of the wisdom that this wonderland has to offer.

The first time I spilled off of the dinghy and into the water I was full of anxiety and fear of the unknown. All I could assume was that every mishap on the list of risks that went along with this thrilling adventure would shortly become my misfortune. The only reason I allowed myself to jump in was that my best friend had promised me that he wouldn’t let anything awful happen to me. These thoughts were instantly erased from my mind once I felt the sharp salt water softened by the warmth of the sun and could see the bottom of my boat. I knew that I was just supposed to let go of myself and enjoy what life was offering me. Tethered to the vessel, I began to realize that there was something greater than me at work and I was just along for the ride.

Almost instantaneously, I could feel a tremendous difference in the way that I thought about the world around me. Instead of bitter and prickly, the water was refreshing, and instead of rough the line holding me to my dinghy, the line was now life-saving. The sun seemed to glow instead of pierce through the water; and the salt no longer seemed to sting my eyes. It was as if the vellum that had been ever so slightly obstructing my view of life had been suddenly dissolved.
After the few allotted moments of this, I reluctantly drifted back towards the surface, pledging to myself not to forget this lesson from the sea. Once the final drops of water had been wiped off of me, I snatched up a pen and began to write. Beauty. Ocean. Lovely. The fumes were intoxicating, but still I continued. Peace. 5/30/04. My wrist was covered in these homemade tattoos, and I swore that I would use them to remind myself of what diving felt like, to continually remind myself of the wonder it brought.
As the week that followed rallied on, I continued to sense that someone was with methere was some sort of “higher being”. I felt as if I had been reincarnated as a kinder, more thoughtful, glass is always half full kind of girl. Through the days trailing my adventure, everything I did reflected my best efforts. I felt more energized and I found myself reaching out to people I had never even looked at as prospective friends. Smiling came easier to me and I couldn’t help but blurt out the compliments that I had tried so hard to keep to myself in the past for fear of looking like a suck-up. The glint of the sunlight through the water seemed to be pouring out of me and into everyone I met.
It has been seven long weeks since the first time I crashed into the beautiful underwater world; weeks spent sitting on the edge of my seat waiting for the closest opportunity to return to the ocean. But when I’m not diving, I am still noticing the spectacular difference that the place has had on me. impact that the water has had on my interaction with the world.





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