Photo shot on my one year anniversary in Belize, C.A.
©️The Sauvagesse Photography
It is 8:30 CST. The sun glistens off the water. The dock is bustling with people. I grab my BCD, regulator, mask, and fins, and begin to set up my dive equipment.
It’s a short trip to the dive site. Once we get there, I don my equipment and am the first one in the water. I signal that I’m okay and begin to descend.
For the next few minutes it’s only me and the fishes. I love this short span of time. While I know people are preparing to drop in, I have a moment to imagine myself alone in the vastness of the ocean. In those moments it is just me and my breath. It’s quiet, save for the bubbles rising past my ears. Suspended between the surface and the ocean floor, I find myself in a place of total peace.
In the mountains of Colorado, my connection to nature is very different. I am frequently able to talk with the Red Tail hawks, animals who have become my connection to the realm of Spirit. In Belize, I’ve struggled to find that connection. There are birds, lizards, and bats that will hang around my place, but it has been hard to develop a connection with them. My energy has been irregular and I don’t seem to have the same ability to call on animal guides as I once did. Or, so I thought!
From the moment I started diving, I’ve noticed an increasing bond with nurse and reef sharks. What used to be a primal fear, has turned into a loving and respectful communion with these majestic creatures. Just the other day, I had two nurse sharks swim with me for a quarter of my dive. They stuck close, sometimes swimming behind me. But, usually, they could be found gliding effortlessly a meter or so below me.
Trigger Warning: I realize there will be folks who read this next section from a place of strong internal belief and moral righteousness. Though we may not come from the same school of thought, I respect your right to have your opinion. If making contact (touching or handling wild animals) bothers or triggers you, please skip the next section.
Connecting
One of the most profound experiences I get to have, on a regular basis, is petting these creatures of the deep. They will often come up close and I am able to run my hand along their back as they swim along. Their skin is rough, like running your hand over a piece of taught leather emblazoned with thousands of tiny rhinestones.
Ever vigilant and respectful of their body language, my touch never seems to disturb them. If they do not abide contact, they will not come close, or let me get within an arm’s length. Beyond that, they seem to be either ambivalent, or welcoming of contact. It is a spiritual experience to make this type of contact, one that I am always grateful for, and respectful of.
Communion with these graceful beings doesn’t stop there. About a month ago, I decided to lay face down in one of the sandy pockets of the finger canyons, about 18 meters (60 ft) below the surface. Moments later, a seven (7) foot nurse shark swam up and rested beside me! I was completely unaware, until I eased up to continue along with the group, and disturbed her in the process. I begged her pardon, as best as one who is non-verbal could do, she adjusted her position only slightly, I took off careful not to create too much turbulence with my fins, and she continued her rest cycle.
A situation like this happened to me, again, just the other day! As before, I eased into a prone position on the sandy bottom, searching through the sand for abandoned shells. Moments later, another nurse shark eased in beside me and positioned herself about two feet away. I took the moment to thank her for gracing me with her presence and she stirred a bit, trying to get in a comfortable spot. When I noticed the dive group starting to move from the area, I thanked her again, increased my buoyancy with an inhale, and started to ascend. This time she didn’t move, and I hated to have the experience end. Exhaling, I descended back toward her for a few more loving taps. This time, she let me pat her just above and behind her pectoral fin. The contact was SUBLIME! Afterward, I said my goodbyes and rejoined the group, easily making this one of my top 100 moments…so far!
Effortlessly gliding through the water, a nurse shark hunts for conch.
©️The Sauvagesse Photography
Encounter. Not “Attack”.
I’ve read articles that indicate most recorded shark “attacks” have been by nurse sharks. It would stand to reason, because they are, in general, so docile. The way we react/relate to this nature is often what gets us humans into trouble. We tend to mistake docility for consent, forgetting that neither are related. Most people who have been bitten by nurse sharks have a few things in common:
- They are too aggressive in their contact, resulting in a defensive bite. Examples:
- Grabbing a shark by the tail and holding on as the shark struggles to get away.
- Handling juveniles (just don’t, unless you have experience).
- Pushing boundaries. Yep, all creatures have them. It’s our job to recognize them.
- They are in a position to be mistaken for food. Examples:
- Swimming/getting too close to a shiver that is being fed.
- Placing appendages (hands or feet) near the nibble bits.
- Spear fishing and unaware the shark is coming for the catch.
I postulate that it all boils down to our own ineptitude, lack of situational awareness, and absence of respect. I would also like to change the narrative from “being attacked”, to “having an encounter”. Sharks will rarely attack, unless provoked.
Overcoming the Fear
I can recall my first trip to the Bahamas, circa 2002. It was my first time experiencing crystal clear, turquoise waters. My ex had chartered a 113 foot Broward Yacht, and we found ourselves birthed in Eleuthera. I decided to take a swim off the back of the yacht, but before I jumped in, I looked down and saw a mass of black creatures at the bottom. “Oh, those are just nurse sharks”, one of the ship mates exclaimed. “SHARKS!!! Oh, hell no”, I thought.
I’ll save the rest of that story for another time. However, fast forward twenty years, and I’ve come to realize what an irrational fear I had back then.
With each dive, my connection to the creatures of the deep strengthens and my fear dissolves. Every time I call on their energy, they appear. On the days I don’t get to visit with my new animal friends, I experience a slight feeling of melancholy.
If you would have told me, a decade ago, that sharks would show up as my spiritual connection to the deep, I would have let out a nervous laugh and called you crazy. I would have told you that I had more of a spiritual connection with turtles, dolphins, or whales. Certainly, I would not be touching or communicating with such fearsome beasts as sharks!
Isn’t it ironic – my greatest fear of the ocean has shown up to be my greatest kindred of our underwater world? Funny how that works!
All of the SCUBA tanks lined up and ready to go.
Until next time…🦈🇧🇿
©️The Sauvagesse Photography
The Sauvagesse 