Fear
"The ocean stirs the heart, inspires the imagination and brings eternal joy to the soul." - Robert Wyland
In May of 2021, I completed my PADI Open Water Scuba Diver certification. I completed it because not only do I want to explore under water, but because I needed to face a fear. I now have a new addiction, but this one is a good one...
Last summer, I promised a good buddy of mine I would get my PADI Open Water Diver card. Day 3 of the training was happening at a local lake where we would perform our learned skills and do two (2) dives to roughly 20 feet in depth for 20 minutes. The day of the dive was perfect. Warm, partly cloudy skies and just peaceful. As I was getting my gear kit on and tested, my dive computer was leaking air. The Divemaster fixed it quickly, gave us short demo in underwater navigation and we made our way from the parking lot to the beach. Fully clad in wetsuits, booties and gloves, we waded into the cool water. As we listened to the final instructions from the instructor we readied ourselves to submerge and begin swimming to the dive site.
My dive partner (who bore a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein) and I signaled to each other we were ready to begin and we went under. Now, there were three (3) young and brash twenty-somethings in the class who were eager to show off their new skills. As my partner and I were under water, the "kids" decided to goof around and all of a sudden, I was kicked hard in the face, my snorkel broke and my regulator came loose. I did something I rarely do. I panicked. I surfaced and couldn't settle down. I was a mixture of pissed and worried. My partner surfaced and I told him what happened and that I was done. I didn't want to continue. I quit.
As I swam back towards the shore, I felt the anxiety in me roil and rise. I once again felt the hate inside me boiling up. I hate myself. I hate that I am a quitter. I hate that I was overcome with this negative wave. I am going to hate looking into the mirror later, facing my buddy, coworkers and friends.
Later that afternoon, I let the instructor know that I wasn't going to have time to finish this class this summer because I was getting busy with work. I allowed my fear of that incident creep in and settle. I bowed to the negative feelings instead of facing them immediately.
Over the winter, I would often look back at this day and wish that it would have gone differently. After all, in my youth, I was a swimmer. I coached swim teams, taught swimming lessons, lifeguarded and loved all things water related. Why was I allowing my fear to prevent me from engaging in a new hobby? There are some questions which contain no answers.
Fast forwarding to a this past April, I was out having a few drinks with my buddy and he asked me again about finishing my PADI certification. I replied, "Yeah, I'll do it this summer. I'll email the Diving Instructor tomorrow." He replied in a way that I respect and appreciate. "Bullshit. Do it now. Email her right now before you finish that beer." I laughed uncomfortably and sent her an email. By the end of the evening, I was signed up for round 2. Pool dive training (which I already completed the prior summer) on a balmy April Tuesday and Wednesday, followed by a trip to Monterey Bay two days later for my Open Water Certification.
I went to the dive shop, rented my gear and began getting anxious (not always in the good way) about the unnatural act of breathing canned air under water.
Pool skills went just as they did in the prior summer; without a hitch. The water and the mountains are like second homes for my soul and I am not only confident in them (well, mostly...) but I enjoy them with zest and vigor.
As I packed up the dive gear and put it into the car after the second day in the pool, I began to feel that all too familiar feeling of dread as we would be doing this for real, in the open ocean in 3 days. Friday evening came quickly and as the car sped down Interstate 5 south, the prior open water dive was in my mind. I also made the mistake of looking up diving forums online and reading about how this weekend in Monterey, the water visibility (clarity) was going to be really bad and the ocean swells were going to be BIG. I voiced my concerns to my buddy and as always, he laughed, called me out on my headcase nonsense and said we are going to have a great time. As the sun set on Friday evening we were making our final turn towards the Pacific Coast. My head was awash in wonder of the sea and all its hidden treasures. I could only hope that this round of open water diving would fare better than the last.
We grabbed dinner in a funky British Pub, had a few beers and enjoyed the music playing in the background. Walking out of the pub into the cloudy night, the air was a mix of electric and salt water. I was feeling good, and not just from the libations. I was genuinely anxious to get going tomorrow morning.
We rose at 5:30 A.M. and did a final run through our gear to ensure we had it all. The car packed, we drove through the empty and quiet streets of Monterey. What had been a noisy and positive energy scene the night before had ebbed into a quiet, subdued and tranquil morning. Dave Matthews A Pirate Looks at Forty (a wonderful cover of Jimmy Buffet's version) was playing on the stereo and I was a mix of anxious, nervous and excited.
We got to the parking lot at Breakwater Cove Marina and took in the sights, smells and sounds of the edge of the most beautiful ocean in the world. An ocean with no memory and no judgment. An ocean that knew not of the incident last summer and my wanting to quit. An ocean where time and tides are endless and ongoing. A place of respite and healing energy. Much like my sacred mountains (which will always be the place of healing and connection with the divine) the ocean gives me solace and settles my wounded soul. Snapping photos and videos of the gentle waves while listening to the chatty harbor seals, I looked down to see a penny. Smiling, I knew today was the day.
After gearing up and listening to the Dive Instructors final words on underwater navigation and where we would be diving, we loaded onto the boat and began making our way to the dive site. The splash of the water and crisp salty air alleviated my fears. I whispered to myself that the water is and always has been a place of refuge for me. The smile from that first dive has not yet left my soul.
We arrived at the dive site after a 20 minute boat ride. Looking at the remains of Cannery Row on the distant shore; a once bustling and thriving industry on the shores of the Pacific that John Steinbeck wrote so eloquently about, I smiled and got my mask ready. Run down and abandoned, those buildings on the shoreline could surely tell me stories and impart wonderful energy to this "sometimes" writer and ex-poet. But, I was here to dive and visit the realm of Poseidon.
The water was cold, even with a 7mm wetsuit, hood, gloves and booties on, but I felt alive. We descended and practiced skills for the Dive Instructor before going on a tour through the magical kelp forests. The visibility was amazing as were the sights. Crabs, corals, fish and a huge blue stingray joined in the early morning fun. It was a cornucopia of visual stimulation and brought a soul smile to me. After what felt like seconds, we surfaced and began the cheerful discussion about all we saw. I was now hooked. My fear washed away in a torrent of pure wonder.
I sit in my office now, against my will as a free spirit, and look back at my dive log at those first five dives which began this love of scuba. I smile and know that I was able to overcome fear and find something to bring me peace when I needed it. In the months since, I've acquired all my own gear, spent close to 30 hours underwater and began collecting treasures (everything from sunglasses to cognac, unopened bottles of beer and Capri Sun, to fishing tackle, road cones, phones, knives, drones, dog leashes and golf balls.) as well as trash from the ignorant and negligent. Like hiking, scuba offers solace and escape from the daily grind of work, bills and the drudgery of everyday life. It is an escape. It is like hiking with respect to the connection to nature and to pure energy.
Fear. FDR said it perfectly in his first inaugural address. "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."
Fear is firmly rooted in the human psyche, but we can choose whether that limits us or drives us to excel. I am so thankful I was able to allay the fear which took hold and overcome it. To overcome it and find a new hobby which brings me such peace and fills me with a sense of adventure. After all, "Jobs fill your pocket, but adventures fill your soul."
If you are struggling with something now, I hope that this little success gives you a sense of hope in the struggle against fear. It's not some magnanimous feat or daring trek across dangerous territory, but even the small victories bring peace within. I hope you are able to see fear for what it is and move past it. To celebrate the overcoming of it and the liberation of your spirit. Each and everyday offers us a chance to face a fear and to overcome it. May the strength, healing light and energy within this universe fill your soul with the resilience to face the fears you see.
“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.” - Jacques Cousteau
"Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time."
Namaste, friends.
