Since there's only one picture for every seven days in a week-at-a-glance calendar (well, duh) I've just been flipping my 2007 Bonaire planner open at night and writing about whatever picture I see. Last night's was a cool one of a fish hovering over a big sponge. Here's what appeared in my notebook:
The big Tiger Grouper hangs motionless over the Orange Barrel Sponge like a trophy on some avid fisherman's mantle. But it's my trophy. I have fine-tuned my diving so that I no longer thrash about scaring fish away. I glide through the water like an arrow slipping between the molecules, barely pushing a pressure wave before me. I learned the surge and sway of the liquid world and I stopped fighting it. Now I am aware of its push and pull, I feel the currents that flow through it like a breeze on a sultry summer day and I glide through the aqua density like a native. So still am I, so at home, that the most nervous of the fish, the Spotted Drums, barely pause when I appear. And that big Tiger Grouper? His eye swivels in appraisal, then he flexes his gills to invite the tiny cleaner fish to resume their work as I watch. I am not a threat. I am at home here.
No comments:
Post a Comment