Breathing is a natural thing that we all do without thinking, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Put on 30 pounds of gear, sit on the bottom of a pool, cover your nose and breath out of a tube...Then, it stops being so natural. Logically, I know and trust that there is air in the tank. But every survival instinct in my body that has evolved over a couple thousand years tells me otherwise.

'You mean to tell me that my life is dependent on this little tiny tube...So, your saying if I puke I am supposed to spit it through this tube too, the one that gives me air?...Your saying if I don't blow out enough air on the way up, that I could sort of blow my lung up?...I'm supposed to equalize me ears and my mask every few feet?...This is all just to much to think about at the same time I need to be thinking about how to breath.


Before I descend, I hover over the surface of the water and take huge deep breaths. For no good reason it feels like it is the very last time that I am going to take in that sweet, life sustaining thing called air. So, I take in a huge breathe and stick my head under the surface.
It doesn't matter how many times I have done this...every time I am still surprised that there is air coming out of my tank.


Under the surface everything feels so different. It is really peaceful and movements are slow and methodical. The one thing I hadn't banked on being a part of that peace is the deafening sound of bubbles continuously blowing by my face and ears. It sort of feels like you are at a concert and standing next to a speaker that is larger than you. The bubbles sort of make your whole body vibrate. It should feel like the good vibrations of life sustaining air but oddly enough all that noise makes me feel kind of uneasy. Avid divers say it is like a lullaby. We are going to have to see about all that.

So my head is under the surface now. Step one: Check.
All these questions start spinning through my head. Is my mask on right? Is it leaking? Can I still breathe? Am I okay? I want to kick and throw myself around like I am drowning but still I'm breathing. Awkwardly, but yes I can still breathe.
Step two descend
I release all the air out of my BCD (buoyancy compensation device, or giant vest full of air) and against every instinct try to sink. Now, my lungs are so full of air from all that heavy breathing that I just hover at the surface. Then I start talking to myself, "your ok. Just breathe. In for three out for six. In for three out for six. Your ok. Be calm. Relax. Relax."
Then all the sudden, Thud! My feet hit the bottom of the teeny tiny 11 ft pool. Success! I made it down here.
I swim around for a bit, do a somersault underwater and I realize finally that I'm going to be ok and that this is actually pretty cool. Ten minutes later I may start to feel overwhelmed by the bubbles and seemingly closing in tight space or I may not, I never quite know. They say that it is so much easier in the ocean because you are so mesmerized by the underwater world that you can now be a part of. We will have to see next week when we take off for Belize if that is the case. Bring on the sand, sun and palm trees.

Practicing at the scuba shop this week I will try to run Bob Marley songs through my head.
'Don't worry 'bout a thing...Cause, every little thing is gonna be alright. This is my message to you hoo hoo.'