Dive
“This is a good day to die,” I thought, recalling the words of courage of Sitting Bull’s Lakota warrior Low Dog as the Battle of the Little Bighorn began. Above, the sky was a frosted blue; below, the warm waters of the Caribbean shimmered turquoise. For days, I had contemplated this one moment of my life when I must choose – and the choice I made may have been the last. I could not escape a choice...
Well...I didn’t die.
I sat near the bow of the boat as the dive master alternately counted them off starboard and port, one by one - the eager group of divers. Each in turn slipped to stern and, at his nod and index-finger command, fell over backwards – waaay too trustingly into the clear Caribbean waters of Cozumel Mexico’s Chankanaab National Park. As each dropped off and bobbed around waiting, I slid slowly to stern until there was no one else in the boat but the dive master and me. Still, when his nod and index finger signaled that it was my time, I had to make sure that he really meant me. I nodded back questioningly and meekly pointed my index finger at myself. He meant me.
In that instant, the six weeks of bi-weekly diving lessons and hours of intense self-preparation and training all flashed by, and I chose courage over fear. I shut the little voice that kept repeating “You can’t; you’ll DIE!”, fell back as I had been trained, looked up at the frosted sky, then down into the turquoise waters. As I slowly released the air from my vest, I descended into a quiet and calming world as a rainbow of species swam all around, seemingly oblivious to my intrusion. I had opened the door which fear would have kept locked.
Never before had I been paralyzed with fear and though I was finally able to shut the voice of doubt, I had other reasons to take the plunge that day. My wife Gayle and I were on vacation with her sister Freddye and brother-in-law Spider - if you met him you’d know why his nickname is "Spider." We’d rented a beach casa in Playa del Carmen, a 30-minute ferry ride from Isla Cozumel and I’d spent a fair sum buying a wet suit, fins, snorkel and mask, and renting the other gear. Gayle would not have taken well my not getting my feet wet. I think I would’ve preferred death.
Then there’s Spider, a former Marine pilot who flew troop support missions in single-seat A-4 Skyhawks in Vietnam. Can you imagine my explaining to him why I bailed on the dive?
“So, Aubrey, you didn’t do it, right?”
“Right Spi.”
“Let me get this straight. You were wearing an inflated vest, right?”
“Right Spi.”
“...have to try re-al-ly hard to drown, right?”
“Right Spi!”
“There were 7 divers in the water, all within a few yards, right?”
“Right.”
“The dive master told you he would be right there with you in the water the whole time?” “Correct-a-mundo Spi!!”
If I hadn’t made the dive I would have had to kill Spider!
A few years later, nearing my 35th year in practice, my career winding down, I took a hard look at where I was, where I had been, and where I was going, and it hit me hard that I may not realize the dream I had when I left Tuskegee on the 30th of May, 1970. I dreamed of owning an AAHA-accredited hospital designed to create a positive, healing experience for our patients and clients, and a supportive, nurturing, empowering environment for all our staff who are as committed to our success as I. Then, in my 35th year of practice, having nearly lost all hope, a serendipitous convergence: the perfect building; an angel named Annemarie Murphy who believed in my dream and arranged financing; and a design/build company who shared my vision. Yet the voices which destroy dreams and spirit, doubt and fear, spoke again: “you’re too old...it’s too much debt...WHAT IF YOU FAIL?”
I realized my dream nearly 5 years ago. Our clients enjoy coming to our practice, our patients calm in its positive energy, and our staff laugh a lot and are happy where they work. I am inspired by the quotes of folks much wiser than I. One of my favorites is by Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Always do what you are afraid to do.”
What are you afraid of??
