Sunday, September 28, 2008

Diving Lobos

[Old post from MySpace, moved here for inclusion...]

A friend (Neil) and I went diving on Sunday in a park called Point Lobos. It's reputed to be one of the best dive sites in Northern California. The state caps diver traffic, so you actually need to book reservations a couple months in advance just to get in on weekends. Neil happened to have a reservation and a need for a buddy, so he invited me along.

Neither of us had a really good idea of where we should be diving, so I don't think we got to any of the popular areas. The scenery, however, didn't disappoint. Fascinating structure, and lots of kelp...

As I'm gearing up for a dive, people commonly ask me what life I hope to see. Fish, eels, and crabs seem to be the common interest. When I first started diving, I too was driven by that fascination. In the past couple of years though, my interest has shifted. Now I dive to be underwater. To escape the noise of conversation, cars, stereos, even the birds. I dive to be weightless, to see the rocks covered with coral, and to hover while I stare at a sandy bottom littered with starfish and tube anemones.

But most of all, I dive for the kelp. One experiences a beauty indescribable when the sun filters through the canopy, casting over everything a golden glow. Piercing the golden atmosphere are beams of light that have discovered holes in the canopy, playing shimmering bright lights on the rocks and sand below. Fish hang here- effortlessly weightless, many of them staring upward. I've not yet discovered why. They don't seem to be bothered by us; most don't even seem to notice as we swim by. Some others swim leisurely around- sometimes right in front of my mask, and others yet dart from place to place. But most of them just hang, looking up along a giant stalk to the shimmering membrane that marks the edge of their world. I don't blame them- it's a nice view.

Then you swim a little further, and find yourself in deeper waters. The golden hue and daggers of light don't make it this far; the mass of water above filters most everything that isn't blue or green. Here, the experience takes an eerie turn. I begin to feel as though I'm passing through a forest at dusk. It's not scary, instead I feel a bit like a visitor- the kind who's presence is always welcome yet never celebrated. This place feels ancient, and the kelp appear as spirits reaching silently for the warmth of the sun. There's a tension here, and I feel as though I'm party to it. Despite the odd feeling, though, there pervades a solemn quiet that draws me in. Though I eagerly anticipate the golden warmth that awaits, it's always a little difficult to leave this place on my return to the shallows.

Ironically, the very life that makes this world seem ancient, exists for only a few months. Starting every fall, storms begin to work their way through. The seas come alive and the kelp are torn from their strongholds. By winter, reportedly, it's all gone. Come spring, kelp spores anchor once again and grow at an alarming rate towards the sun. This yearly cycle of life, culminating in a ghostly quiet tinged with a sense of the eternal, suggests that there's a mystery here that I'm unable to understand. Perhaps in a decade I'll return to this place wiser and more experienced, and perceive dimensions of which I'm currently unaware. I just hope I never lose the wonder.

Neil and I compared air, checked the dive time, and decided it would be best to head back to the shore. The story doesn't end here, but my writing does. Though the journey to the shore itself was an adventure, it's an adventure that occurred in a different world- one of bustle and activity. I'd rather end these thoughts in the ocean realm. Though I live on the surface, the quiet mystery of the deep is what sustains me from dive to dive.

Inaugural Post

Sigh- already I've had to go to an online dictionary. And yes, I did spell "inaugural" correctly on the first try.

A year or so ago I gave in to my friends, and finally created a MySpace account. Once again, I find myself caving to peer pressure in the creation of this blog.

At least, that's my cover story.

As with all things, of course, reality runs deeper. The truth is, everyday I'm bombarded by thoughts and experiences that (chalk it up so some odd manifestation of voyeurism?) I want to share with the world.

Back to m-w.com. After "voyeurism," looks like I'm 2 for 2. It's a good night.

Maybe it's the engineer in me, but it seems I should be laying out a charter here. I've felt around for some time, in hopes that I'd lay hold of some sort of intention for this blog. But I keep coming up with only one word: catharsis. I hope that at least someone out there gets out of this as much as I do.

Thanks for reading.

Cheers,
Ben