I Know that I Know, Baja ’13

I Know that I Know

La Paz & Cabo Pulmo; Baja 2013

See the shadow and know by the darkness moving over white sand that a tornado is coming.  Jacks like a swarm of bees huddled together moving as one.  Looking into a giant black eye, no, a-thousand eyes.  All of them blank, none of them seeing me.  Only feeling swirling, only knowing.  Knowing where we are in time and space.

Swirling synchronized splitting into two units, spun off without reason, or at least one undefined by me…  science tells us why but right now I don’t need the data, I can feel it in my body I know and it makes sense somehow, why they are cheek to cheek.

Spun off aggression to defend a territory against a hapless porgy, once bright-barred-yellow now laughable, chased and sulking alone in a crevice where another territory belongs to the sharp jaws of a moray.  Long undulations of green dorsal fin waving and tail kicking defensively two moray come head to head snapping.  I keep my distance but can’t stay away.

My territory is not here at all, but I want to lay in the sand under the dark shadow of the jacks and stare at them blankly, knowing.

The pufferfish harmless and confused, like a beach ball with nothing to do but entertain.

The whaleshark within reach, gulping black krill on my face

The hammerheads hunting and alien, hovering over a deep rubbled seascape

The groupers fat-lipped and lumbering,  3 tiny yellow jacks like gnats piloting.

All of this territory shared, divided between species and habitat; and it makes sense for the length of the breath in my tank.  Drained of bottom time I leave my pass below and hang in the safety stop.  The closer I get to the surface the less clear it all becomes:  the tornado, the territories; making sense of it all, knowing.  I open my book to read what the science has to say.

jacks

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