New Appreciations

I sat at the bow of the boat, claustrophobic in my tight wetsuit and afraid that I might accidentally discharge my speargun into one of my flippers. The dark blue abyss mocked the timid high school kid that stared blankly back at it. I could not fathom diving forty feet down in the ocean, finding a sea bass, spearing it, and coming back up all the while holding my breath. Thoughts raced through my mind, each one progressively worse than the other. "Can I even reach the bottom? What if I can't hold my breath long enough? What if I get stuck on the bottom?" After what seemed to be an hour of making weak attempts to psych myself up enough to get in, I felt two hands on my back then a surge of chilly water engulfed my body. I looked back up at the boat seeing my brother grinning from ear to ear.

Now in the water, I did my best to collect my thoughts but to no avail. I bobbed in the water like a helpless fly that had accidentally ventured into a pool. I tried to get my bearings, but my weight belt wrapped around my waist kept pulling me down, letting water get in my snorkel making me panic even more. It did not make it better that the ocean was still no less terrifying now that I was in it. Looking down, rays of sunlight penetrated the depths until it, too, became too frightened to go any further and left the rest of the ocean floor hidden in darkness.

After a few moments, I was able to steady my breathing and relax my muscles. I took one last large breath through my snorkel, turned the safety off on my speargun, and began my descent to the bottom. I passed the reach of the sunlight and only after another second or two did I reach the ocean floor. I was surrounded by darkness, yet I was still able to discern the mahogany brown coral structures and the black figures of aquatic life who swam by and quickly darted off aware of my presence. Another few seconds passed before I saw the massive head of a sea bass appear from behind a reef. Its large frame glided through the water away from where I was positioned. Realizing I only had a few moments to react, I raised my speargun, aimed down the shaft, and pulled the trigger. Immediately, I saw the spear hit my target and I began my ascent, cognizant of the fact that I can't rise too quickly. When I reached the surface again, a wave of excitement overcame me, and I wasted no time holding my catch high in the air flaunting to my brothers back on the boat. Even though I was maliciously pushed off the vessel, we all rejoiced sharing the joy that comes with a successful dive. Once back on the boat, I was met with a couple of slaps on the back and some words of encouragement. After that, the rest of the diving trip was slow, but I could have cared less; I pushed myself to get something I wanted, and I got it.

A year later, summer had come back around again and I found myself sitting on the same spot on the bow of the boat. I realized that I was not afraid like I was before. In fact, I was looking forward to getting to the bottom. I found that the ocean was not all that terrifying. Rather it was incredibly serene, and I discovered an appreciation for the life that inhabited it. Specifically, the way that the extensions of coral along with dormant marine life swayed with the current and how that same flow of water created that wavy pattern in the sand, almost like waves captured in a moment in time. All the while I floated there, a momentary sojourn in a foreign world. It dawned on me that spearfishing was not just satisfying that younger, naïve side of me that just wanted to do something risky for the thrill and being rewarded extrinsically.

In this moment of introspection, I looked up over the incomprehensible amount of water and a feeling of insignificance came upon me. Not one that is dispiriting, but one that is humbling. I found it humorous that the ocean is so massive in size yet holds life that is so fragile. It came to me that maybe it is by nature that the world and its occupants are misled by false perceptions and that this very primitive idea has been written into the genetic code of our ancestors for thousands of years.

I realized that this is applicable in many domains outside of spearfishing and had an especially profound impact on the way I interact with people. It taught me that being empathetic and realizing that there is much more than is being presented can drastically change one’s view of another or a situation. I thought it was funny how such a trivial matter can provoke such an insightful thought.