My Sea Turtle Teacher

I’m scuba diving for the first time in 30 years off the coast of Playa del Carmen, Mexico. I had done a half-day refresher course the day before, but as I suited up, rolled off the back of the boat and landed in the water, I’m nauseous from the boat ride, breathing too fast through my regulator, and anxious. I’m very aware, as someone who grew up in landlocked Nebraska and live in the plains of Colorado, that I’m out of my element in the ocean. I descend, give the OK sign to the dive master, and take a look around. There are tropical fish everywhere, and suddenly, I see a sea turtle flying through the water towards me. It seemed to give me a wave and was gone in a blink.

That was in April 2019. I wished I could say I had a fabulous dive, but I didn’t. I had trouble with my buoyancy and kept popping back to the surface. I scrambled to stay with my group and remained hyper-vigilant for the remainder of the dive. My husband and son, who were diving with me, found their Zen underwater, marveling at the tropical sea life. I was too preoccupied with the mechanics of breathing and navigating underwater to experience the magic.

Fast forward to 2021. We had planned another dive trip in 2020, but had to cancel due to covid. Amazingly, my husband, two sons, and daughter-in-law could all clear their schedules for a week on the island of Cozumel, Mexico, beginning June 7th. We had two birthdays to celebrate, and my other son and his wife were eager to learn to scuba dive and get their PADI certification. Honestly, I wasn’t as excited as the rest of my family, but I also didn’t want to be left behind in the condo and miss out on the diving adventures.

As soon as I booked the condo and airline flights, I conjured up the memory of the sea turtle who had waved at me underwater. She moved with such grace and ease, completely at home in the Mexican Caribbean. I imagined myself as her companion. Each day in my morning meditation and when I was walking my dogs, I visualized myself as a sea turtle, learning how to explore the coral reefs and flow with the current. She became my teacher.

Image from https://www.dresseldivers.com/blog/palancar-reef-paradise-scuba-divers/

Image from https://www.dresseldivers.com/blog/palancar-reef-paradise-scuba-divers/

I spent the first morning in Cozumel in scuba school with Carlos, our dive master., and my son and daughter-in-law. Carlos patiently explained the fundamentals of diving. It was very helpful for me to become reacquainted with the equipment, basic skills, safety precautions, hand signals, and the mechanics of breathing in and out through my mouth.

The next morning, I was ready. We took a boat ride out to Palancar Reef, made famous by documentary filmmaker, Jacques Cousteau. This time when I suited up, rolled off the back of the boat and landed in the water, I was smiling. We all descended to the sandy bottom, checked in, and began swimming towards the reef. Just a couple of minutes in, I spotted a sea turtle.

“You’ve got this!” I heard her say as she glided on past.

“I’ve got this”, I repeated to myself as I felt a wave of peace envelop me.

I found my neutral buoyancy. I glided through openings in the reef, following our dive master, much as I had imagined myself following the sea turtle for the past 30 days. It was effortless. It was quiet, except for the sound of my breath. I found my Zen.

We saw five sea turtles over the course of our dives. Each encounter was brief, unlike that of filmmaker, Craig Foster, in his surprisingly poignant documentary “My Octopus Teacher”. With each glimpse of another sea turtle, I felt a wave of recognition and gratitude wash over me. I was a guest in their backyard paradise. Back home, as I’m writing this, my sea turtle teacher is still with me. She lives in my imagination and has extended her reach beyond the sea. I find myself setting the conscious intention to flow with the current of life, to play with the sensation of being weightless and fully present, and to be in tune with my breath.

And the turtles, of course all the turtles are free, as turtles and, maybe, all creatures should be.
— Dr. Seuss