The activity that my father and I enjoyed most while on our Galápagos Islands adventure was snorkeling. While skimming along the surface of clear ocean waters, we got a fisheye’s view through our masks.
The snorkel allowed me to breathe continuously without having to lift my head up to grab a lungful of oxygen. I was surprised by an aspect of snorkel breathing that I hadn’t remembered from my previous experiences. Because my ears were submerged in the water, the only sound I could hear was my own breathing. It was akin to concentrating on my breath during yoga or meditation, only, because all other noises were deeply muffled, the sound of my breath was intensified. That translated into a steady calm and contentment that allowed me to relax and immerse myself in my surroundings even more.
When I placed my face in the water and began to breathe, I was immediately in another landscape. The world of air was replaced by the world of water. The earth and sky gave way to water, sand and rock. And the creatures that inhabit this particular realm are completely different from those who live in the realm of air and dirt and trees and grass.
This is the realm of fins and gills, or else suckers and spines. Here live razor surgeonfish, king angelfish, moorish idols, butterflyfish, parrotfish, and more. Here also are starfish, sea urchins, octopuses, rays, and sea cucumbers.
These creatures inhabit a watery world, but they share this world with creatures who are at home on land and in the sea. With a flipper, leg, or wing in both realms, there are also sea turtles, fur seals, marine iguanas, sea lions, and penguins.
Yes, penguins! You’ve been taught that penguins don’t fly, but they do. They fly in the water, flapping their wings like any other bird. I was surprised and delighted when, noticing movement out of the corner of my eye, turned my head, and saw two penguins zipping by—in eighty degree water, on the equator. This very small species has adapted to the warmer climate by shrinking in size, requiring less nutrients and a much smaller layer of fat.
And the sea lions. The pups were playful—with each other as well as with other species, including us humans—while the adults ignored us all together. They twirled and looped and darted between us, as curious about us as we were about them. Although we were instructed to stay six feet from all wildlife, the sea lion pups had no such rule.
I swam with sea turtles until they out-swam me. I held my breath and dove into a school of silver and black-striped salemas, swimming through their center as they parted slightly to make room for this interloper. I listened to a parrotfish chomp on coral, then watched as a contrail of sand left her body as refuse.
But what made my heart stop was a huge spotted eagle ray. I’m guessing it was at least nine feet in length, its black body and wings covered in small white spots. It was beautiful. I placed both hands over my heart and offered up gratitude to the divine for this creature as it glided away with elegant, balletic undulations through the ocean waters.
As denizens of land and air, we humans can forget that there is a larger world below the waters’ surface—one of equal wonder, grace, and beauty. May we never lose the ability to be awestruck at the magnificence of all of creation.