Musings of a Probable Hippie

Along the coast of Puerto Vallarta, marine biologists study a pod of resident bottlenose dolphins. I was in Mexico for a yoga retreat when I read that the biologists lead tours to swim with the dolphins. I jumped on the first boat out.

“There!” I begged, pointing over the horizon at a mother and her small calf.

“No,” explained our guide, “New moms will keep their babies far from us. Adult males will also avoid humans. We want to find some teenagers! They’re like human teens, curious and reckless! They’re the ones we want.”

Dolphins have learned to avoid splashing objects on the surface, whether they be boats or kicking swimmers; but a new twirling underwater object, now that is worth checking out.

Soon, with a smile, our guide shut off the engine and pointed to fins in the west. Seeing my grin, he threw me a mask and some flippers.

“But what do I do?” The dolphins were a hundred yards away.

“Go to them! Just keep swimming into their path and then dive, dive, dive!”

Just keep swimming...out into the open sea, with jelly fish and manta rays and, I’m sure, a kraken all actively seeking me out. Look, I’m a strong swimmer, but as I slid alone into the waters and my strides carried me further from the safety of the boat, I knew that for the first time in my life I was deeply afraid.

I recalled the words of my yoga teacher. We must push past fear in order to get to love. It was what she had been saying to us all week, but I didn’t understand it there in the studio.

I decided that this was a test. I was scared, but I had to push through that fear in order to get to something greater. I began to repeat a mantra with each pump of my arms: No fear. Just love.

The phrase gave me courage. I held my breath and dove down into the darkening waters where I began to twirl.

And then...

Six smiling dolphins gathered around me, deeply emotive, powerfully gentle, and painfully beautiful. I stilled my body, floating, watching them, taking them in, struck by their holiness, captivated by this gift of their very presence.

I looked at them, and they looked back at me. I was truly, madly, desperately in love.

In the underwater silence, it felt like a lifetime, but it could not have been a minute before my lungs reminded me that I am not a creature of the sea. I needed to breathe again.

When I went back down, they were already gone.

Here’s the thing, you don’t swim with wild dolphins, but if you are lucky, and a bit brave, wild dolphins will swim with you.