I recently spent some time in Hawaii. While the sun and water relaxation was
enjoyable, it reinforced my preference for land. Sure, kayaking from the beach to an island or coral reef is a satisfying workout, with the sun warming your limbs and reflecting across the beautiful shades of blue. It does remind me to admire the power of mother nature, as well as humble me on what little presence I am in the world.
Snorkeling is a very unique experience. I wouldn’t say I have a fear of drowning, but certainly while snorkeling, I am very cognizant of that possibility. The ocean is entirely its own being; the waves and current going whichever direction it pleases, the ocean floor an undeterminable depth far below. With the goggles squeezed tight over my face and my teeth clamped tight over the snorkel tube, I force air through my mouth rather than nose, praying no air leaks in and fogs my goggles. What an unnatural way to breathe. Above the water, it is highly uncomfortable and awkward, almost better to just quickly submerge my head.
Diving in, I am plunged into an eerie silence. The water echoes deep like
surround sound but also simultaneously hollow. Voices and sounds above the
water are immediately muffled and dissipated, leaving only surreal vibrations
coming through the water into my ears. Eyes wide open, I peer through the large goggle lens, scanning the water as I adjust to the foggy blue. Visibility is maybe 4–5 feet around me, and dark shapes loom underneath — the coral reefs. Harsh, jagged, unforgiving coral reefs. As much as they cringe from human touch, I fear the pain from accidentally grazing my legs on their sharp surfaces. I try to relax and make my body a floating buoy, drifting along.
The underwater world is peaceful and still. At first look, it would seem devoid of movement, despite the continuous bobbing and wave motions as the current pushes and pulls me along. Yet, as I focus on a section of coral, the ugly brown mass materializes into a webbed maze of holes and crevices, sparkling dark red and gold. The water and light cast a rippling effect, like a mirage. Suddenly, I can see that the fractals of hard coral are alive with sea animals. I float, keeping my body as still as possible, blending as much as a human can into the underwater world, as if I belonged…
Yellow, triangular fish dart in and out of the coral; small silvery fish in schools drift slowly together. A fat, dark curved mass camouflages into the reef, but little specks of white belie the presence of a sea cucumber. I lightly kick my flippered feet a few times, propelling myself around the reef, where I see a few tubes of nebulous sea anemone waving in the currents. Tiny light-colored fish weave in and out. Creepy bright orange/pink tubular creatures are nestled along the sandy sea ground.
While I float, taking purposeful deep breaths through my snorkel tube, I am
consciously aware that being underwater in this sea world is not natural. I am a human being, not designed to survive underwater, yet I am trying to defy the odds by being clever, breathing through a plastic tube that connects me to the air above. Watching the fish, I feel an invasion of their privacy, peering at the fish as they go about their days. Fish, swimming around, in and out, all over. What are they thinking? Do they think? Is there a meaning to their movements or destinations or are they just swimming around for fun? Do they know where to go? Are they aware, there is a big creature like me, who does not belong in their sea world, watching them for “recreation”?
Unaware of how much time has passed — maybe 5 minutes, maybe 30 minutes — I aimlessly kick my flippers, following the shape of the coral reef, I guess hoping to see more variation in the underwater animal life. It’s so quiet, my thoughts wander from counting the seconds to occasioning humming “Under the Sea” to checking measured breaths. The waves wash over me, the current pulls me along, all of which I am essentially defenseless against. While, trying to accomplish what? Be an observer to a world that I do not belong? Isn’t it curious that humans seek leisure in watching other animal species live their lives. Makes me wonder, are there other creatures out there, perhaps that unanswered but many times over speculated concept of aliens, watching us humans go about our everyday, human lives, and wondering the same questions that I wonder of the fish?
