Yesterday evening’s swim was one of those exceptions to the
old Groucho Marx quote (“I don’t care to belong to a club that accepts people
like me as members.”) I’m always oddly flattered when an animal accepts me on
its level. OK, usually that’s my dog Mu
when I’m in the floor doing yoga (downward dog is a fave), but this time it is
about fish.
To say I’m focused when I’m snorkeling for sea glass is like
saying a monsoon might be damp. Friends
who show up at the beach after I’m face down find the only way to get me to
acknowledge their presence is to hurl something near my head so it makes a big
thwunk in the water next to me. OK,
that’s one friend’s methods, & he doesn’t care that I’ve got lumps on my
head from where he ‘missed.’ I know, I
know—Nemo. “With fronds like these, who
needs anemones?” (Wow, I pulled out a nautical
pun quote! Impressive!)
 |
| My Sea Glass Pendants |
But back to yesterday.
I broke my mask strap as I was putting it on, no doubt due to silicon
fatigue from overuse. Not to be thwarted
by a silly detail like a strapless mask, I exhaled & suction-stuck it to my
round face & went about my mission.
It worked well enough for me to haul in several pounds of my quarry, but
the concession was that I’d have to pop my head up & clear more often,
something I usually avoid (lest I miss the perfect pendant piece of aqua glass,
as I’m positive I would).
So I was ‘blowing the hatch’ as it were & when I
re-dunked, I caught motion in my peripheral vision, looked up & realized I
was in the middle of the biggest school of fish I’ve ever been a part of. They were inch-long & shiny, all rainbow
iridescent & fearless & flowing against me on all sides. And I had that wonderful sensation I get when
there is no gap between nature & me, & I’m a part of what I love. Don’t spread it around, but sometimes it
makes me tear up inside my mask. What must
the fish think?
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