The last of the air escaped my lungs as my body let out an involuntary and inaudible scream. Every muscle in my body was crying out for air. My lungs began to fill with water as my body tried to inhale. My vision began to narrow. I could see the light ahead of me, but it appeared to be moving farther and farther away. Everything went black.
Anxiety can be a powerful force. Anxiety can keep you from jumping out of a perfectly good airplane, or from ever boarding the airplane. It can warn you of approaching danger, or keep you from doing something because of perceived danger. It can keep you from climbing unstable rocks, or keep you from climbing to an unforgettable view. Anxiety is our measured risk, but only risk grants reward.
I struggle to find the equilibrium between risk and reward. I swore to myself that I would never shy away from a challenge so that when my life was over I could honestly say I had lived to the fullest. But my question is: should I live today to the fullest, or live to see tomorrow? I don't know how to answer.
That question came to the forefront on the beautiful island of Saba. Saba is a five-square-mile volcano that juts up out of the water, boasting a staggering population of 1,900. The island is beautiful as it rises out of the sea and climbs straight up to the top of Mt. Scenery, the highest point in the Dutch kingdom at 2,910 feet. As the island climbs, it moves through multiple climates of desert, forest, and rain forest. This island is rugged and natural, an adventurer’s dream. This island nearly killed me.
“Everyone hop aboard, and we’ll get under way,” said the captain of our twenty-one-foot dive boat. Our captain was one of the few Americans in Saba, drawn by some of the best diving in the Caribbean. I was part of a group of about 20, spending a few weeks on the island running a summer camp for local children. This would be our last day, so we wanted to go out on a high note. “Everyone have the gear they need?” asked the Dutch first mate, checking that we all had our fins, masks, and snorkels. The engine roared to life, kicking up a torrent of bubbles behind the boat. We slowly pulled away from Saba’s main port and got comfortable for a thirty-minute trip to our dive site.
To our right we gazed up at the beautiful island, the top of Mt. Scenery obscured in the clouds. The water was a deep sapphire and incredibly smooth, perfect water for snorkeling. After traversing around part of the island, the engine slowly died down and the first mate tossed an anchor over the side. “You all have one hour,” called the captain from the raised wheel house. “Make sure to check out the swim-through.” We were nestled in a beautiful cove, the original dock for the island when pirates still used it as a port. The 12 of us on the boat grabbed our masks and jumped into the pristine water. About 100 yards in front of us was a beautiful cave cutting through a cliff that jutted out from the base of the island. Without a thought, I started swimming towards it.
I am a decent swimmer but far from experienced; in fact, this was my first time snorkeling. On this island, though, I felt invincible. For two weeks, I had been free climbing cliffs, hiking, climbing radio towers, and doing anything else I could think of to get my adrenaline fix. I was afraid of nothing because being afraid was normal for me. I darted after fish of every color imaginable as I swam to the cave, totally entranced with this other world hidden beneath the ocean. I was amazed as I swam through the cave. Cool dark water surrounded me and I looked under rocks and in crevices for strange new creatures. I was in love. I spent the next half hour diving as deep as I could go, chasing fish and having a blast in the alien world before I swam back to the boat to rest my legs.
I dragged my exhausted body up the ladder and onto the deck. “That cave was amazing,” I said to the captain still sitting in the wheel house.
“You should see the underwater swim-through,” he replied. “It’s a favorite of scuba divers around here, but it's about 60 feet so few free divers attempt it.” The reason few free divers attempted the swim-through is that between the depth and length, it can take a strong swimmer between a minute and a half and two minutes to complete. That long without a breath creates a difficult swim, even for experienced divers.
“Where is it?” I asked, hoping to give it a try.
“I can’t tell you that,” replied the captain, “I can’t let you get yourself killed trying something stupid.” Now I had to find it, had to prove I could make it. After all, I’m invincible on the island. After asking another local, I finally found it. It was a long tunnel in the cliff, 10 feet down and 60 feet long, with about five feet between the bottom and top. When I swam down I could just barely see where the water got light blue at the end. I was determined to do it. Three times I swam down and back up, unable to scrounge together the courage to attempt the swim. Finally, on the fourth dive, I went for it.
The cave felt like another planet. It was pitch dark and the water was cold and still. For a moment it was wonderful, then the terror set in. I was just barely 10 feet in and already my lungs screamed for air because I had used so much oxygen diving down. I began fighting forward, struggling with every muscle in my body. Halfway through, every muscle in my body was crying out for air. Everything went black. I felt that I was about to die. I grabbed at the rock above me trying to drive myself to safety. I could just barely make out lighter water in front of me. I fought for what felt like eternity, and I felt my limbs becoming unresponsive. I was near unconsciousness.
With a last burst of effort, I broke the surface and clung to the cliff beside me as I gasped for air. My entire body was shaking and my vision was still cloudy. I began violently puking up sea water, my body trying to right itself. I started to cry. I knew I had cheated death. One of the locals found me clinging to the rock and helped me begin swimming again. All he could do was shake his head in amazement. “You should not have been able to survive that,” said the local named Peter. “You are surely an islander now.”
Back on the boat I couldn't stop shaking. When I opened my eyes I could still see that cave, could still feel the water filling my lungs, could still feel myself dying. I knew then that I had truly become fearless, but I had also become stupid. I had spent so many years fighting to beat my anxiety. My anxiety was still there, it still bothered me anytime I tried to relax, but now I ignored it. I was so used to my anxiety telling me I was in peril standing in a crowded room that I ignored my senses when it told me this adventure would kill me, but I wasn't sure I had made the wrong choice. I want so badly to say I was foolish and should never risk my life so carelessly again, yet I felt overjoyed because in that moment, I chose to live life to the fullest.
The question still plagues me, do I truly live today or live to see tomorrow? You may find me a fool, or an addict doing anything for a fix, or someone who conquered their demons. You may find me someone who lives in every moment, or you may find me someone who will not live to see tomorrow. I wish I could say I regret that day, but I can’t. I hate anxiety and I finally feel that I have beaten it, yet now nothing protects me from death. Diving through that cave I thought I would surely die, yet only in that moment was I truly alive. Should we live today, or live to see tomorrow? Only you can decide.
