Blue Hole Revisited

Today, at last, my Swedish dive-buddy Stefan and I took the bumpy pick- up on the camel-trafficked path out to the Blue Hole. A deep, deep coral surrounded place of beauty, where freedivers play and scuba divers die. Morbid, but the call of the deep is strong, and the naturalists have a better chance at survival. The early morning air is chilly, we have come at seven, so we are the only divers here. I drink some hot lemon with honey to warm up, we stretch, kit-up... at last, my dry season is over.

How I have been yearning for that rich blue expanse others call nothingness, I call everything. I take my last breath, leave the surface, the bustle, the voices- the world above, and dive...
I close my eyes, looking inward, as my body gets heavier as the pressure gets more, and then I fall... free-falling, allowing the water to pull-push draw me down. LIke a hundred arms of a hundred lovers the blue envelops me, holds me, cradles me... and this is enough. I am enough. Here... - I am.

I keep it easy, my recent illness still in my body, and I stop at 40- open my eyes at last, take in the silence and the solitude, before starting my ascent. My lungs want air but my soul wants more... more time down here, more depth... more!

Then I'm at the surface, breathe again, smile at the sun, my heart still beating... at depth.




This pic was taken by Annelie Pompe, my freediving soulmate, and really captures the feeling...