The unoccupied instructor rambles. The usual blog style will return next.

I sit in an office. The furniture, the desk, the chairs, the computer surround me but they sit distant. I’m as motionless as they are. A void between us. Empty in an empty office. In this emptiness nothing speaks. I listen still. Outside the street cuts close to the window. Passing cars fill the void. They are full. Full of life. Full with passengers talking. Full with music playing. So full they invaded me. A slow procession of engines and stereo sound. Now a sound I’ve heard before, away from these walls. Dylan. Yes…Dylan playing in the a car. Yes, I can recall it, A Simple Twist of Fate. I can hear his voice clear now "We walk together in the park, until the evening sky grows dark". Why have I not listened to Dylan for almost a year? I love this song. As his voice cracks he leads me closer to the past. Perhaps this is why, because he leads me back to her. Away from the emptiness, to the place I heard this song before.

"He looked at her and felt a spark tingle to his bone" as he sings I hear her laughter clearly once again. Always laughing. Just as she was those years ago when he played in front of us. As quickly as the laughter raises up inside me, it sinks quietly again behind my eyes, again the emptiness of the room hits them. My mind grows quiet again, it was just an echo. The memory.

I need to recount these memories to myself. I grow fearful that these memories are fading. The print on my minds page so clear its slowly being consumed by a flame. It licks slowly up through the lines. Already some print is lost to me and blackness. I can remember but not recall moments in that summer. I can see her standing next to the braking sea still but a new fog surrounds us. I view all through a glass window misted with dew. I see our shapes but no-longer feel I was one. I’m stilling standing next to her, but her breath, the colour of her shoes that day are lost to me. I must write now while the print still burns orange. Rescue those dark brown eyes, the pink of her gums, and the smile line upon her cheek from oblivion. For what will happen to me when I forget them? What will happen when I lose her face? Will I burn with her? For when I lost her, I lost her figures dwelling upon my face. Her touch was not tender but her finger wrapped my hair tight as if I would slip from her grasp. Sill absent now is the feeling of her thighs pressed against mine as she leant close in that cold wind. I have lost these feelings and more but hold her untenable gifts tight. The trust she poured with her eyes, the invincibility, the inconsequence of the world to both of us. With her I was the master of my own destiny. I could be happy. Validation written across her face and pressed into me. After her I still held this feeling tight. I will not let it burn, even as she does. It cannot. I will not let it. Or it is I that is lost with her.

First impressions...

I’ve been teaching now for 6 weeks. It’s been an intense period. Graduating from my course I was all but bankrupt I needed to get teaching as soon as possible in order to satisfy a significant mango addiction. I sit and write to all of you on my first day off since I became an instructor. The last few weeks I’ve taught a great deal of people how to dive and I feel they have taught me a great deal about people. One of first things I’ve noticed is personality types. Confronted by something completely new and scary diving represent something of a personality test. Peoples characters emerge under water, during the learning process and how they embrace the experience. I’d be very tempted to try and understand what it is that makes a tight lipped logic based son of German parents to become more jubilant underwater then a liberal drug taking, big drinking Frenchman. Both have been equally pleasing to teach but the contrast makes me wonder what makes us who we are. My favorite student and a great example of contrasting reactions has to be a gregarious American called Seje. Seje was brought up for the first six years of his life in Trinidad, migrating to the US not to return. When I first met him I could tell that really wanted to go diving, he pressed me to tell him what he could see and I could read in his eyes the desire was there. He was held back by a fear of the ocean imprinted in him from his upbringing in the Caribbean. He explained that the Ocean is held in a fearful respect in the Caribbean and diving is a confrontation of this. We talked out a lot of the reasons that diving is a safe sport and he decided to sign up. On our first dive he remains my most nervous student but once underwater that fear was replaced in equal measure but joy. Toward this end of the dive we came across a turtle and Seje’s arms spring up in a small victory dance. Watching this 6ft black man jingle with delight was a very human moment. I’m going to try and hold on them as they pass by.

s

The Recipe

Recipe for becoming an instructor.

One half cup of diving ambition.

5 eggs of Dive Master Learning.

2000 green herbs (American Federal Reserve Verity)

One spoon of PADI rescue simulation

Distilled Juice’s of 5 confined and 4 open water training sessions.

75kilo gram instructor manual

One bottle of Russian Vodka

Part One-IDC
Take the half cup of diving ambition and 5 eggs of learning and beat them together with the 75kilo gram instructor manual for 14 days. When the mixture starts to tire and thicken slowly add the juice of practical training. This should be sieved through an IDC course director- the Alina Conroy and Minnie Vansgard verities and proven and popular. Put the mixture into a steel baking tray. Mixture should take on a PADI consistency. Leave to set for one night. Mixture may sweat so cover with a towel to keep from drying out.

Part Two-IE
Set temperature to intense. Place steel tray in a pressure cooker for 3 days. Mixture should rise. Take the rescue simulation and dust over the top of the mixture. Add the 2000 green herbs (take care to use them all) and cover the top completely- then take a blow torch and caramelize the American herbs. Finally remove from tray and soak Vodka over night.

Serve the PADI instructor in a warm climate with water. Asia and Caribbean compliment the flavors well.
S

Moments in time

My apologies for once again wondering from our conversation. Picture me going to get another round of drinks and the people at the bar holding me up while I leave you smoking in the corner, but fear not we find ourselves once again alone by the fruit machine to resume...
I’ll begin characteristically far away from the point and we’ll try and battle our way back to it. A long time ago when I was 14, on a Saturday, my mother went out on the disco tiles. She met on under the Technicolor lights a nice chap called Martin. Both single they struck up a partnership which is goes strong today-recently even investing in a puppy! On that summer night Martin was only visiting our area (Sunny Sussex) because of a Tennis tournament, he lived in the eastern land of Kent. After two years of commuting these love birds decided that it would in fact by best if they moved closer together. The ramification for me being a change of school, town and universe at the tender age of sixteen. What trauma! but fortunately I hated my current town and I hated my school even more. I quickly learned to love their replacements. My new school with its resources not directed to controlling psychopaths even managed to get me to University. Hormones raging I even feel in love within the first month. I owe so much to this chance meeting of people. I have no doubt of how different my life would have been without the opportunities that moving town gave me.
It was one of these chance encounters which occurred just after I last wrote to you all. At the last minute, on a Saturday, I was invited to attend a PADI diving meet and greet. My dive shop had promised to send 5 people but a visa run prevented two instructors from attending and so the chance of free alcohol was passed on to me. Feeling quiet lost amongst the great and good of “PADI Asia” I was introduced to the local Course Director, Aleana. I confided that I’d like to become an Instructor but with my guiding responsibilities ending that week there was no way I could afford to stay around for her next course in November. With an excessive flourish of the arms, which I would later recognize as a bit of a trade mark move, she told me that need not be a problem. Music to my ears I reassured her, that moment the conversation ended as quickly as it had begun- the head PADI Indonesia stealing her attention with several drinks in hand. Slightly dazed from the free Bintang beer (this was a return to alcohol after 5 months after all) I made my way home.
Two days later I was handed the phone in the dive shop and after a quick hello Aleana’s voice asked if I wanted to work as a guide on a live-a-board boat leaving for Komodo the next day. After several second of silent panic and the odd expletives in my head I said -“of course!”. Moments that change your life happen of course every day but few slap me in the face as this one did. I put down the phone slightly numb, I was going to work in one the best but one of most dangerous dive spots in Asia. I was going to have to guide sites I’d never been to before and if I pulled it off I could become an Instructor-crumbs. Let me save the story of Komodo and the months in between for another post and cut this story short. That is just what I did, and the perhaps the reason for my absence-the last two months has at times been a blur. After two months of guiding. I find myself in Bali doing my Instructor course. The final exam takes place in three days and could perhaps be one of those moments that hit me once again, I’ll let you know which way it flows.
S

The word of the week is Yoga

My absence from the blogshire can be explained by a number of legitimate if boring reasons which I won’t bore you with.

The word of the week on Gili Air is Yoga. The source of this excitement is David; a holidaying Hatha Yoga Instructor. Not only is he a good teacher is he perhaps walking proof of the benefits of Yoga practice. As a 19 year old a car knocked him from his bike left him in intensive care. Doctors told him that he was lucky to be alive. The car hit David’s left side, dislocating the leg and forcing it up the side of his hip joint. Both arms also shattered. The doctors held little hope of him walking again without assistance again. A full recovery took 10 years only for the same accident to replay itself. A car missed a Stop sign and again crushed his left side. Rapid Surgery saved his leg with 15 pieces of separate metal. The doctors told him that he would never walk without crouches again. It is testament and proof of an extraordinary mental strength that he again refused to believe their advice. He traveled from expert to expert- psycho, massage, acupuncture. With each he gained a little ground, when someone told him that he had progressed as much as he could, he thanked them and searched for someone who disagreed. A work colleague introduced him to hot yoga formulated by a retired Olympic weight lifter who almost lost his own leg after crushing his knee. It was through this practice David recovered more strength and movement then with any other therapy. Doctors witnessing his progress took him back under the knife to remove some of the metal. The Doctors entered over the same incision line as the previous operation. There was a noticeable absence of scar tissue from the first operation. They were amazed at the advanced ligament and muscle development throughout his upper leg. So noticeable was the strength of his recovery that after the operation interns quizzed him for hours about what Yoga he had used, how long and with whom. Yoga had given him his legs back but it also helped to heal the psychological scars beneath. Yoga was hard, so hard that it was impossible to think of anything else during the practice. Like many others he felt centered, shielded from distraction. While the body worked the mind relaxed, for 90 minutes he found a silence within himself.

He has been kind enough to teach me Hatha and I remain grateful for him passing the practice on. One of the purist gifts surely. The idea of deepening my understanding of Yoga by learning to teach it, as he did also appeals to me but that is a path that can wait. I have decided to continue on my Scuba travels a little longer. I aim to become a diving instructor sooner or later. The first step is to fill the gap between the beginning of the next course which is in November and now. It’ll be possible to cover my costs until then but I’d much rather get a job which allows me to see another part of SE Asia. To become an instructor was a remote possibility 2 months ago but completing my dive master has shown me that I can do it, all I have to do is make it happen.

My final days of guiding are upon me as Ramadan ends. My eyes have indeed got better, those octopus seem to find me these days. Liza my eagle eyed fellow guide can still find amazingly small creatures which I swim past but she admits I edge her on the Shark front..

from the blue, Shaun

New Eyes

I’m now approaching the end of my dive master and looms a new period of responsibility. Ramadan through a happy calendar hiccup starts just as I finish my qualification. During this stamina test of faith the local guides are unable to work because to do so would enable water to pass there lips thus breaking fast. The dive shop have asked me to take on there duties together with 2 other products of this fine institution. Guiding is something which I had always thought of as half way to a dream job, throw in a decent rate of return and you’d have the whole package. How hard can it be? Diving around spotting fish and get paid to do it! There is a catch however that escaped my attention… your responsible for people’s lives. Several of the local dive sites have established themselves on the bubble trail amongst divers as being world class, but with little known darker sides. Shark Point the dive site that convinced me to stay is a classic example. Deep valleys of coral play home white tip reef Sharks but can be subject to a downward current that flows down into the blue. It is the guide that directs divers away from these dangers, and now that responsibility falls to me. With each dive however my confidence grows and I feel ready for the challenge. The typography of the sites becomes second nature with the more I dive them.

As for the spotting the fish along the way I am improving. Those reading whom are not divers may find this an odd statement. How can you get better at seeing something sitting in front of you? There is a long and a short answer, one simply is stating that it’s hard to see what you don’t know is there. The longer one involves discussing why. Our eyes are trained to recognize rather then to see. We pick out objects and focus upon them from a huge canvas of perception. As you look at this text your perception picks out the words but ignores the area around the screen. This is all well and good. What happens if your eyes are looking at an object that they have never recognized before in there entire lives? When Columbus arrived the Indians he encountered were unable to perceive the boat anchored off the shore because they had never recognized such an object. As a diver you encounter the same phenomenon. Yesterday swimming along I swam over and completely missed a huge Octopus. It took my friend wildly gestating and pointing for my eyes to perceive this amazing new creature. I would be concerned that my eyes could remain this blind throughout my life time; that I could swim over hundreds of Octopus if not for our friend Columbus. After telling the Indians of the boats existence and the epiphany of its perception the Indians were able to recognize the boat again and again. Once you see your first Octopus, you will see his friends.

I’ve spent the last few weeks diving and progressing further along the road toward the heady heights of Dive Master. This qualification for those viewing the blog from outside the communal scuba diving bubble is a step below Instructor. It allows me to guide divers and instruct refresher courses. It would be fair to say that the primary use of a Dive Masters is that of labor, filling in the gaps between the instructor, their pupils and their paycheck. The benefit of all this work is the pleasure of diving, cherry picking up to four dives a day. I’ve succeeded in doing 23 dives in two weeks, which is not a bad return on such sensational soul food.



Outside of all this diving activity I continue to stumble upon inspirational moments which cause me to reflect upon my perception of life. These moments have in the past appeared in such diverse form s of bearded surfers, mediation courses or vast schools of fish. Each of these encounters although varied gives rise to a central thought, the importance of living in the moment. Each of us has felt our heart moved by the beauty of a sunset over the ocean or perhaps raised our arms in jubilation as the ball hits the back of the net. The revelation is that we can feel that joy in every moment of our lives if we only allow ourselves to do so. What do these moments have in common? What makes so happy witnessing such differing events? A common thread can be found not in the events themselves but the way we perceive them.
Inside these “life stopping” moments we think not of past recollections or of possible futures but perceive only the present before us; this is the source of our joy. The past is gone, vanished beyond our control. It is something we cannot change beyond our own view of it. So why do we all squander such energy upon regret and denial? Similarly living in the future only causes us to fantasize about the numerous possibilities which could unfold. For example, “If I cycle Java whom will I meet? …Maybe a diver who knew where I could get work… and if I get work maybe I could become an instructor… and so on and on. A hypothetical wonderland is created, taking us further away from the reality of the present. Not only this but sometimes, we become so convinced in this speculation that we crave it’s realization and are miserable when it fails to arrive. Why our minds take us away with such abandon is hard to pinpoint and perhaps irrelevant. Blame TV, cite materialism but know that you can change it only by remembering to bring yourself back to the now. It is that simple.
When you bring yourself into the present you also become aware its impermanence. As a consequence you savoir the beauty of that sunset and enjoy the taste of the fish that night because you know that these moments are temporary. In parallel you allow a lost wallet or a pain in your leg to wash over you. What is the point in extending this momentary suffering into the night and next day by recounting and recollecting and reaffirming it? The moment, it’s all in the moment.
And in case you wondered what brought all this on, I’ll enclose the words below. Yours in all things blue and bubbling, Shaun
“You know I think I spent the first 30 years of my life trying to become good at things. I wanted to become good at Tennis, I wanted to become good at grades, everything I tried to do came from this perspective…I’m not ok the way I am but if I just got good at things…but I realize now I had the game wrong, the game was to find out what I already was.”
Zeitgeist.
2004 (Film)