The Helix of Existence
Great white sharks and indulging in nostalgia.
The arrival of a season so often carries with it a visit from the past. The warm late-spring air swept in remnants of time that have flooded my senses with lucid memories. The kind that stir up emotions so powerful, it feels as if no time has passed. To count the true years in between is startling. How tempting and inescapable it is to overindulge in such vivid memory. Every present moment is an expiring one, that has the potential to later be recognized for what it really was; pure magic.
In the building whirl of nostalgia, I’ve found myself grasping for more of it; hoping to catch the floating pieces so that I might be able to reassemble them. Feeling the fragments of people that nudged my life; set me on fire and helped me to uncover someone new beneath the surface. Listening to soul music and phrases replay in my mind like a never-ending record. Reigniting the heat from a fiercely burning flame. Captured again by the sensation of waves in a belly full of excitement; for a future fertile with mysterious possibility. And contemplating the potential left unexplored, as I went racing for the dense wilderness in the distance.
I’ve been experiencing spring this year through the fast-shifting lens of a time-traveler, occupying multiple dimensions simultaneously. Suddenly I’ve emerged from a period of life that I’d leaped ravines to reach; never looking back once. The acceleration of a lifetime, packed with adventure; and seven years later the jumping point has sprung back at me. Clear as day, but with tens of thousands of miles of distance in between. With deep gratitude for having arrived here, I find myself grieving those so distant moments. The ones I can see and feel but can’t again grasp. With all the new promise of the future, I am clinging to the feelings I packed up and took with me.
I suspect I’ve breached a unique vantage point within the helix of existence. And can’t take my eyes off a faintly shimmering level below. The pause feels so dramatic. Alluring songs softly echo through the space in between. It almost makes me wonder if I could have stayed there forever; while within myself I hear the reverberations of my reasoning. There is something quite special about that lower plane; some meaning that makes me think I’ll still be smiling back at it, at 80; indulging in undying feelings. And wishing the rules of space, time and code could be bended.
A single event can shake loose a decade of wiring and send us down the path to becoming somebody new. Sometimes so rapidly, we’re unable to recognize the time elapsed or the connections we may have looked longer at.
In 2018 I wrote this down in my digital notebook:
How I Wish To Spend A Limited Existence–
Sharing moments and experiences with creatures that challenge, intrigue and engage me. Curiously interrogating my relationships with fellow beings and properly appreciating the differences and similarities of minds; greeting unknown varieties of my character that are born through rare connections with particular individuals. Sharing an intercourse of dialogue in such a way that creates opportunity for discovered thought.
Capturing and creating; making images, jotting poetry, publishing those efforts and pushing them out to the world; utilizing what I have practiced, refined and appear to be good at. Reflecting on expired moments in a way unlike many of our human ancestors could have the privilege.
Embracing a twenty-first century existence; traveling, being deeply in touch with discovery, bringing myself face to face with extraordinary earthlings; great white sharks, whales, gorillas, chimpanzees.
By limited, I meant in duration. I had been growing to understand how short our lives really are. And that there's no compelling reason to think we will experience more than one occasion of consciousness. I found a rested mind and body in the acceptance of this. I felt compelled to compile my current list of things to do with my luck of having been given a life; and upon finishing that list I realized I had already lost 26 years. Nothing about my life at that moment was going to lead me directly to the grand aspirations I had at heart. I had to start here and I had to begin to take some uncomfortable risks. Uproot myself from things that held me stagnant. Hand my circumstances, my apparent strengths and my future to myself. To say "These are yours. And all of this– is up to you."
One year later, in September of 2019 I would write:
There is nothing to do but see;
Observe every sensation.
The gentle rocking.
The dim reading light across my bed.
The sound of slushing water
As it makes contact with the boat
And slides away.
The recent memory of watching pelicans soar into the sea and gulp their fishy prey,
While the Solmar drifts from the shore of Ensenada.
Onward to Guadalupe,
My eyes roam the ocean,
Across backdrops of rock and colored skies.
They slowly shut,
As the warmth from our star
Relaxes over my faded yellow sweater.
On my belly,
My cheek rested on my forearms,
I fall into sleep like a child under a book.
Below my dizzy dream boat,
Is the ocean,
Rocking me to bed.
The ocean,
Where nature as we know it,
Began toying with chemistry
And creatures.
Below me,
Offering our past and our future.
Pleasant songs, and frightful horrors,
Rocking me to sleep.
I was 27 years-old. I flew to San Diego, got on a bus that took me into Mexico and boarded a boat set for 5 days at sea with 15 people I had never met. Every moment sat deep within me. And the entirety of the experience was unlike anything that I had ever felt as an adult. Like my mind and senses had been freshly washed, after years of looking out at the world through fogged windows. Months prior to the trip, that I'd planned for over a year, I started to suspect that I was in love for the first time. We’d been seeing each other since the summer prior and I, of course, yearned to take him with me. Every family member that heard I was going to Mexico alone to be close to great white sharks begged me to take someone with me.
This endeavor was foremost about witnessing a great white shark; experiencing that breath-taking awe somewhere beyond a screen. I knew it was also about me. Going after something without the security or permission of another human being. The year before my trip to Isla Guadalupe, I had taken my open water diving course in Oregon and Washington. I had survived the novel discomfort of being a 100 pound woman, improperly weighted, sinking beneath the jetty of Yaquina Bay. The fall from a steep dive-site; carrying my cylinder downhill and bloodying my behind prior to a 30ft descent. And my final dive in Hoodsport, Washington; wearing a wetsuit too big for me, shaking-cold as I navigated the low-visibility and removed my mask 9 meters beneath the surface. This final piece of the journey, the trip to the island, was for me alone. It was my opportunity meet the next version of myself.
Day Two: Onboard
Today I noticed that I had been forced to breathe and live in this trip. Stepping into the cage, and slowly inhaling got easier every time. The disconnect from everything I’ve become accustomed to felt less burdening. As much as I wished to text Jason after every dive, I am grateful that I couldn’t. I was stuck here. In life. Without the option of distraction. My phone meant nothing to me. The clear blue water, the sun on my salty skin, the ancient beings exploring the exterior of the boat; they meant everything. I was here. With me. A version I hadn’t previously known. Never like these past few days. Brave. In awe. And present. This is a gift I have given myself. And I am forever, selfishly grateful.
The details of life were becoming more visible- touchable. Every fleeting moment, I could see it. In all that we gain, we see everything that we will eventually lose. The sensations of occupying each unique corner of this boat haven't ceased. The smell of coffee flowing through the cabins in the morning, the texture of the interior seats, the warm light that illuminates the windows, the salted air that rushes the sundeck. I returned home with a renewed ability to see the expansive world that is within a single image. To absorb the fine details.
Day Three: Last dive day
Curiously, they glide about the waters, nearing the cages. In some moments, I am no more than three feet from the black eyes, wounded gills and contagious calmness of a massive white shark. In the minutes before one appears, I shiver under the cool water that breaks through my wetsuit, and fumble in the discomfort of my mask and regulator. In the next instant, I am face to face with her. She moves slowly, her silver nose breaking through the distant blue. The pause between my inhale and exhale becomes a quiet few seconds, and I’m there with her, sharing space and time; a rare experience for a land mammal.