The first time I learned to float and swim was when I was inside my mother’s womb.  There,  I was safe, nourished, healthy, loved, and happy.   Now, at 54, I still relish the same experience each time I am at sea, whether on its surface, or, even better, beneath it where I, as a scuba diver,  find myself in the company of many other earthly creatures thriving and throbbing in the deep, salty currents of mother nature’s womb which is always abundantly rich in nutrients for body and soul.

When I was a little over one year old, I was often taken out to sea where my mother systematically taught me to swim in  a variety of styles and strokes. That was when I  discovered the pleasure of  being buoyant, of trusting the sea to carry me, to caress me, to relax  and comfort me. Eventually, I learned to snorkel, and inevitably, to scuba dive which I’ve been enjoying with my family for almost two decades now.

Descending to coral reefs is much like penetrating a secret garden and art gallery in an other-world dimension. On a particularly blessed dive,  one is invited by The Artistic Creator to gaze at His works-in-progress.  Countless forms of marine life burst forth in an explosion of colors,  shapes, sizes and textures   -    all of which, individually and collectively,  excite the human senses of sight, sound, touch,  and taste. Even the sense of smell is actually sensitized by the pure air compressed in a tank and delivered through a mouthpiece.  More significantly, one witnesses the cyclical pattern of life and death in coral communities which bloom then fade away, only to come back to life again, all in due time and space.

One marvels at the awesome spectrum of marine life, and is utterly overjoyed and humbled by it.  By the time one ascends back home to the surface of the water, both body and spirit would have been compressed and decompressed,  squeezed of debris, and  restored to equanimity and wellness.  At its best, scuba diving is not at all a mere sport, nor a thrill-conquest,  nor a time-passing sightseeing adventure.  Rather, it is for me a spiritual experience of grace and meditation, the benefits of which linger far beyond a fourty five-minute dive.

One of my favourite sayings by an anonymous Zen poet best describes how I experience scuba diving:  “ The joy of a raindrop is to enter the ocean.”

Our body is 75% water, a salty solution very similar to seawater. And while the human body isn’t really  designed to inhabit the sea, man, since pre-historic times,  has always been instinctively drawn to it, perhaps because of its magical beauty, and certainly because of its healing powers. Hippocrates, The Father of Medicine, discovered the therapeutic qualities of seawater by noticing the healing effects it had on the injured hands of fishermen. It is now known that sea salt bath therapy is an effective treatment which assists in the rejuvenation of  cells and which also induces a healthy trafficking of minerals and the expulsion of toxins from human bodies.

The sea is my good friend and caregiver.  Intimately, it resides in me.  In  January 2007,   while I was doing a leisurely, marathon swim in placid seawater, I felt a lump in my left breast. It was the sea which first alerted me of my breast cancer.  After a biopsy confirmed my condition,  one of my first concerns was the disruption it would cause to my life at sea.  I was worried about becoming a beached whale!  Fortunately, I was to be “dry-docked” only temporarily for the duration of my chemotherapy, lumpectomy and radiation.  I made up by diving very frequently in 2008 while I was on remission.  Early this year though, in January 2009, I had a local recurrence  which warranted a mastectomy and  chemotherapy. In between treatments, I let the sea soothe my discomforts. During treatments, I keep the sea and especially its Master close to my heart.  This never fails to motivate me to cope with medical procedures in order to recover my strength to be able to return to the sea sooner, rather than later.

In my cancer journey, I’ve been joined by cancer buddies, physicians, and friends on weekend respites by the sea.  My Carewell family headed by fellow diver Bobbit Suntay, my surgeon Dr. Alejandro Dizon, and my oncologist and dive buddy Dr. Francis Lopez have been drawn together by the sea which heals us all in a mystical way. When we gather together on special evenings by the shore, as the tide ebbs and the sun sets in the far horizon, we find much to celebrate and be grateful for. 

Returning to the city, to our medical treatments, to the challenges of pain, suffering, and healing, we are sanctified by something which the sea encrusts in our hearts   -   hope, that no matter how long or short one’s life is, that it is worth every breath, for oneself, and for others. The Gospel of Mark quotes Jesus as teaching, “Salt is good.....therefore, have salt in yourselves and live at peace, one with another.”    

Back to Top