A few weekends ago, I received an email from one of my
teachers, who beckoned us to return to the breath, consciously, for one day,
all together, a group of 33 of us and more in solidarity. I grew excited about the prospect of breathing
in synergy with my dear friends and teachers, and others who are connected to
the greater mystery. In the pacific, where
I was working, it was already Sunday (although Saturday in the Mainland US), so
I decided I would spend my Sunday and their Sunday returning to conscious
breath.
Over the past week, I had been challenged with feelings of
being alone and disconnected. After 10
days in the desert with some of the most amazing people I’ve been blessed to
meet, there I was back on a plane to the pacific; working more hours than I
care to admit and spending my evening alone a solitary hotel room, rather than
in the company of one of my true soul sisters, chatting until the wee hours of
the morning about anything and everything that came to our consciousness. I had been longing for that re-connection,
and since it could not be done in bodily form, our coordinated breath seemed
like a wonderful surrogate.
And, what better way to reconnect with the breath than to go
scuba diving. So, inhaling and exhaling,
equally and with ease, I assembled my underwater camera, grabbed my gear and
drove cross island, chanting as I drove to continue my beautiful breath
connection. Even though I could have
called someone to join me, that day I was feeling the calmness of my breath and
the calling to be alone with it and the serenity of the underwater world.
When you are in the water, there is no denying the breath,
you need it to stay alive. Oxygen is
your life force. The quality and form of
your breath is a demonstration of how your body (your heart, your circulatory
system) is performing any given moment. With an open circuit scuba set up, like the
one I use, every inhale is accompanied by a slurping sound, and every exhale is
a stream of bubbles. Often, when I am
diving, these sounds are soothing to me, resonating in my ears and in my
heart. The natural rhythm of my breath calms my
entire system. Inhale sluuurp, exhale
blub, blub, blub.
Geared up and ready, camera in hand, I walked out to the cut
in the reef, and with a giant stride, in I went. Inhale sluuurp, exhale blub, blub, blub. It had been a bit rainy that week, so I made
my way out of the Lau Lau Bay shallows, into open water, where the water
cleared. Almost immediately, I was
greeted by a phenomenon called the ‘bait ball’.
It is a school of fish that swims as a close pod, in what seems like
circle formation. Schooling fish usually
form this configuration in response to predators, to appear to be a larger
creature and/or to create confusion for the predator, but there is nothing ever
chasing this particular bait ball. It is
just as it is. And so, I sat for a while
marveling at this school, which has no leader, and yet moves in harmony
together, each fish feeling the energetic forces of the fish around it to determine
what direction to go in and never colliding with any other fish. It would seem that there was some
orchestration happening, but somehow the school moves all together without any
strife or without even knowing the direction they are going. They are in the moment, moving together, in
synchronicity. And I recognize, what a
lesson that is for us, and how we move through our lives, through our days,
through our moments…how often do we move in harmony with our surroundings, with
those around us, with the energy field of each other and our planet? How often do we not have a plan for what
direction we are going, but leave ourselves truly open to whatever possibility
may be ahead? We have so much to learn
from nature, if we take the time to observe and be present with our
breath. Inhale sluuurp, exhale blub,
blub, blub.
Still pondering the bait ball’s movement and continuing my conscious
breath, I finned on to deeper waters. My
intuition guided me toward the right, to observe areas that do not have a lot
of diver traffic and give me the opportunity to poke around some of the larger
and smaller rock formations, rather than the large finger reef, which is where
most divers go. As I glided through the
water, I was completely in the moment, observing and absorbing with my
senses. And then a thought crossed my
mind, “ahh, today would be a great day to see a turtle.” And so it was. As I rounded a larger rock, there it
was. A beautiful green turtle (Chelonia
mydas) about 4 feet long, just
hanging out munching on the algae growth.
Immediately, I became more conscious of my breath, inhale
sluuurp, exhale blub, blub, blub.
As scuba divers, we are constantly reminded of our breath
through the sound; inhale sluuurp, exhale blub, blub, blub. When we encounter wildlife, we recognize that
the sound that be soothing to us (ahh, my breath), is not to an underwater
creature (AHH, what the heck is that huge thing blowing those loud bubbles?). And unfortunately, that thing that keeps us
alive (our breath) is what scares the very things we came to see, away. This issue is even more challenging for an
underwater photographer, trying to capture the moment (and often with lights
and more sounds and vibrations). So, sometimes
do what we are instructed not to…to hold the breath, fearing that we will scare
our subject, stir up silt in the water with our bubbles, or mess up our photo
with the stream and unsteadiness that comes with our exhale. Some days, that is not enough, and the
subject of our adoration flees. Maybe
they feel our fear over losing them, similar to what can happen in our
relationships when we clench down in fear of the potential loss, so much that
it becomes real…and there we are left with our breath. And other days, like this one, maybe we relax
into the moment, into the breath; inhale sluuurp, exhale blub, blub, blub; and we
are graced with the opportunity, as I was, to spend 45 minutes hanging out with
a beautiful pacific green turtle, munching down, content in the moment, and unaffected
by my company.
I’ve been enamored with turtles as long as I can remember,
which may or may not be a long time. While
in college, I had the opportunity to spend time with the leatherback turtles of
Las Baulas de Guanacaste National Marine Park in Costa Rica, courtesy of one of
my amazing advisors. Leatherbacks are the
largest of these beautiful ocean creatures and while they make me seem small in
comparison, their young are smaller than the palm of my hand and have very low
survival rates, which is one contributing factor to their endangered
status. My time with leatherbacks also
taught me about the grace of these gentile giants. Ever since, I have felt a special connection to
these amazing creatures, that lay eggs and are born on land, live most of their
lives in the water and yet breathe air into their lungs to survive. From spending those nights on the beach in
Las Baulas, I learned how sensitive turtles are to light (they can become
easily disoriented with other than natural light), and that their cycles of
life are dictated and influenced by the moon (as is their potential survival
once hatched). Immediately recalling
this sensitivity, I switched off the flash on my camera, not wanting to confuse
or startle the lovely creature before me.
Green turtles are a smaller and more pervasive species than
leatherbacks, however they are still endangered. They are vegetarians in their older age, as
this one was clearly demonstrating with its nibbling on the greenery in our
vicinity.
So there we were me with my breath; inhale sluuurp, exhale
blub, blub, blub; and my camera and this beautiful turtle, who allowed me to
come so close that I could have reached out and touched it. The thought of
actually touching it never crossed my mind, out of respect and admiration. However, my mind wandered to thoughts of why people
would feel the need to do so. Why are we
okay with entering the energy space of another creature, disturbing their life
and their practice. Why do we feel the
need to intervene in the natural habitat of creatures? Is there some reason why we pet turtles or
stingrays? Or feed sharks? Why do we want to tame that which is
wild? Why do we try to control species for
our own entertainment? Do we need to
feel superior or just that we have the ability to control everything that is in
our midst? We are visitors to this
planet, and we, as humans are certainly visitors to the ocean. Why do we not do everything we can to protect
it, and all of the life forms in its midst?
And so, I tried to capture the beauty of this creature in this moment
with my camera, knowing that what would show up on an image would only be a
fraction of the beauty of the moment.
Occasionally, the turtle would gaze up at me, and I would
drop my camera, so that we could look each other in the eye. Who knows what he/she saw of me, but whatever
I was, there I was with my breath; inhale sluuurp, exhale blub, blub,
blub. And all that time, as I breathed
from the tank on my back, the turtle was holding its breath. Turtles are believed to need a breath of air
every 3-5 minutes, or shorter when stressed, and longer when sleeping. Given the amount of time this turtle spent in
my company, it seems that our time together was as relaxing for the turtle as
it was for me. At times, I felt as if I
were breathing for both of us, and so I continued consciously; inhale sluuurp,
exhale blub, blub, blub. After an
amazing 45 minutes of wonder and connection with my finned friend, I realized
that it was time to begin my journey back to shore. Since I wanted to have enough time (air) to
do so gently, I said my goodbye to that turtle, who was the best company,
besides my breath, that I had that day.
Gracefully breaking the connection we shared, I began to make my way
back towards the reef line and shore.
When I was about a few breaths away, I turned back for a last look and saw
the turtle had begun its ascent as well, towards the water’s surface, to
replenish its lungs with air. It was
perfect. We were still in harmony, even
in our disconnection. Slowly with attention;
inhale sluuurp, exhale blub, blub, blub; I made my way back to shore, ever grateful
for my adventure, and a magical return to the breath.
