Finding Bliss In The Deep Blue
I was alone, beautifully and wonderfully alone.
I should’ve been concerned, I should’ve been preparing myself to return to the surface and find my buddies. But something was holding me back from leaving straight away.
There I was, hovering over the sea bed and staring straight out into the great blue abyss. And I was happy, I was home.
It all started shortly after my Rescue course with Mermaids Dive Center in Pattaya, Thailand whilst enjoying a fun dive. I had a nice little team, paired with a lovely, very sweet little English lady called Catherine who I’d formed quite a fondness for. We would be diving in Samaesan, a quaint little fishing village roughly just under an hour away.
Once we’d arrived and boarded the boat, each dive team took turns to set up their equipment in preparation for our first dive. And it was our first dive where I found myself unintentionally detached from my group.
I can’t pinpoint exactly how far into the dive it happened but I do remember stopping abruptly mid-swim, as I’d just spied a cute little yellow boxfish. As I edged a little closer, GoPro in hand, my focus was completely on the fish. I was determined to capture a good shot of it before it swam away and as I continued to click the camera, I didn’t notice Catherine disappearing further and further into the distance.
Finally, after I was sure I’d gotten a good photo of the little guy, I turned back around to where my group might be. Or should have been. Unfortunately, all that greeted me was a giant wall of deep blue. I turned to the side, nothing but blue. The other side, blue. Until I finally resigned to the fact that I’d lost them.
I had the tiniest fleeting moment of panic whilst the realisation that I was completely alone set in. Then the panic turned into something I can only describe as pure bliss, as I hovered slightly, letting peace wash over me.
Of course, the protocol is to look for your team for one minute then if not found, head slowly to the surface with a safety stop, if it calls for it. But for me, that one minute turned into something truly special. The ocean was comforting me, in a way I’d never felt before. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t anxious, I wasn’t anything, I just was.
Is this what it feels like to be completely at ease? Content, gratified, untroubled? Is this what it feels like to be at one with yourself, with nature? So beyond responsibility and that menial, tedious thing called life? My thoughts were perfectly consumed with how beautiful our planet truly is, how magical the ocean can be. How I wished I could stay right there in that moment forever.
It was the longest minute of my life and for once, not in a bad way.
As I slowly made my way to the surface, I glanced at my dive computer when it beeped at me to stop. The safety stop wasn’t half as blissful, seeing as the current had other ideas whilst I tried to stay in the same spot to wait it out. When I finally breached the surface, I saw my group about 4 metres away, so I wasn’t alone after all! The visibility just hadn’t allowed me to see them and although I was grateful to rejoin my team, I couldn’t help but feel even more gratitude for that blessed moment of absolute bliss, down in the depths of the majestic deep blue.
Oh and just to let you know, that photo of the yellow boxfish? Yeah, turns out the battery had died on the camera and I didn’t have a single photo to prove I’d seen it. Classic!
