I glanced back, briefly. Hesitation? I lifted my hand and looked at it as I drifted back and finally into the sea. Slowly sinking, I could feel the weight of my existence pulling me down. This then is my journey.

The colors are brilliant and their forms peaceful. I know there is an underlying violence here as fish defend their small bit of coral; as one living thing devours another, but it doesn't matter. The beauty is the thing. It is relaxing to the mind and soul. The gentle pull of the tides pushing fans back and forth, the fish schooling and swimming in mad shapes, the corals waving to the sea horses passing through. The sounds are muted and distinct at the same time. A contradiction made possible by the sea. Parrot fish crunching as the surface sounds fade.

One by one, the colors fade. Red abandons me, followed by orange and yellow. Greens fade into blues and I am left with violet. The mid level blues surround me as I sink deeper. The veneer of coral gaiety is replaced by the growing mass of the fish. Small becomes large and many grow fewer. The choices in the middle are bigger than when I was in the shallows, but they are less diverse. Sharks and predators glide by; barracuda above, hiding in the last glare of the sun. The gabbing eels, running their mouths, hide in their homes.

There is a sense of peace as I move on. Free floating and sinking, almost blind. Strange creatures, caricatures of earlier beings flash across my view. They are more specialized, they are the survivors. They can handle the dark, chilly depths of life. But they are grotesque and menacing. The crush of the sea is unbearable, and yet the sense remains that I am going where I am supposed to go. Am I wrong in this assessment? Have I simply chosen to spread my arms wide and accept the downward crush of life and its medium, the sea?

Bottom. And life reverts to its simplest forms. Infantile appearing worms and tubular creatures. Is this what is meant by the circle of life? Not really a circle, but a return to infancy the deeper we go? Choices and diversity are scarce. Life here is cold, barren, crushed. As I lay in the dust, remembering where I've been, I thought of just your face.