To the depths
On the treasures of going deep
You start in the wading pool, when your hands are still small and your legs still short. You sit and splash, laughing in the warm water. After a while, you look around, realizing for the first time that others are in the water with you. Together you laugh and laugh. You wonder how it could ever get better than this.
But one day, as you sit in the wading pool, you notice your knees. They protrude from the water that once covered them. You stand, testing the length of your legs and notice there’s another, bigger pool nearby. The blue-green water glimmers in the sunlight, beckoning you. You begin to walk toward it.
“Where are you going?” the others in the wading pool ask you.
“This way,” you say. “Come with me.”
They come with you. Together, you approach the pool. The water is deeper, but there are steps to guide you. You go in first, taking them one at a time, grabbing the railing to steady yourself. Soon enough, your feet touch the bottom. The water is higher, nearly to your neck.
“How is it?” they ask, still standing on the edge.
You look inward. You feel grounded, but buoyant.
“It feels good,” you assure them.
They join you. You begin to laugh and play together. It’s easy, with your feet on the floor but your bodies weightless in the water. You wonder how it could ever get better than this.
After a while, however, you feel your eyes drawing to the other end of the pool. You’re curious, you want to explore it. But the closer you get to it, the less your feet are able to touch. You’re on your tippy toes, the water well over your chin. You decide you’re willing to test it. You’re too curious.
“Where are you going?” the others ask you.
“To the deep end,” you say. “Come with me.”
You now use your legs not to walk, but to propel yourself to the other side. The water here is much deeper, yet you’re able to keep yourself afloat. The others watch.
“How is it?” they ask.
You look inward. You feel energized.
“It feels good,” you assure them.
Some follow, some stay behind.
Together, you explore the deep end. You dunk your head, noticing how muffled it makes the sound around you. You attempt to touch the bottom, seeing how long you can hold your breath. You feel your arms, legs, and lungs growing stronger. You wonder how it could ever get better than this.
As you emerge from the water, the sound returns. This time, however, you notice something. A roaring, a sort of siren song. It calls to you. Curious, you climb the ladder out of the deep end. From the edge of the pool, you can see blue and white waves rolling in the distance. You begin to walk toward them.
“Where are you going?” the others ask you.
“To the beach,” you say. “Come with me.”
A few from the deep end follow. The rest stay behind. Together, you walk to the shore. The sand is warm beneath your feet. You can smell salt in the air. The closer you get, the louder the sound of the waves. You let the water wash over your feet. It’s cooler than the pool, but it’s refreshing. You walk in further.
“Where are you going?” the others ask you.
“To the ocean,” you say. “Come with me.”
You can barely hear the others above the crashing surf.
“It’s too cold.”
“It’s too rough.”
“It’s too deep.”
Their words are lost in the waves.
You use your strong arms and legs to swim. You notice the water getting calmer the further you get from the shore. Soon, you’re in the open ocean, the others just specks in the distance. For a moment, you feel panicked. You’re alone. What have you done?
But something catches your eye, something glittering beneath the surface. You dip your head to see. Deep on the ocean floor is a chest with a golden lock. Curious to see what’s inside, you fill your lungs with air and dive.
Down,
down,
down
you
go.
You reach for the chest. Even in the water, it’s heavy in your hands. You drag it to the surface. Gasping for air, you inspect the lock. You pull it, yank it, tug it, but it won’t budge. You need the key. Panic finds you again. How will you find it? How long will you have to look?
You push past the fear. Again, you fill your lungs and prepare for descent. As you dive, you notice the silence. Without the others, it’s stronger than it was in the deep end of the pool. It’s peaceful. You only hear the sound of your own legs swishing through the water, your own heartbeat pumping in your ears.
You search for the key, looking for any sign of glittering gold. It takes you several tries, several trips to the surface. You’re exhausted, your limbs and lungs burning with fatigue, but you find it.
The chest is still there, right where you left it. The key is still clutched tightly in your hand. You take another big breath at the surface and dive.
Down,
down,
down,
you
go.
The key is a perfect fit in the lock. After all your work to find it, it opens easily. Inside is everything you could have wanted and more. Even exhausted, even alone, you know it couldn’t ever get better than this.
Author’s Note: It may be harder – it may hurt like hell sometimes – but going deep is always worth it. 🤍