I’m lying in bed thinking about the ocean—as one does—and suddenly I remember this story I once heard about a shipping container full of bath toys, including rubber duckies, that fell off a ship and sent them floating across the ocean.
These little yellow duckies went on the adventure of a lifetime.
The toys started washing up in completely different places, thousands of miles apart. Same shipment. Entirely different destinations.
And that got me thinking about those giant rubber-duck races where thousands of little yellow ducks get dumped into rivers.
Which naturally led me to my next thought:
Is there underwater news?
Because there has to be.
There simply has to be some sort of Under the Sea News Network.
I picture a very serious-looking fish sitting behind a tiny news desk:
“Breaking news this afternoon: five great white assaults have been reported in the eastern corridor. Civilian fish are advised to use extreme caution while swimming, gliding, schooling, or otherwise traveling through the area.”
And then suddenly—
ALERT. ALERT.
“A massive invasion of unidentified yellow objects has entered the water.”
Thousands of rubber duckies are floating overhead.
“These objects appear friendly but are NOT edible. Repeat: DO NOT SWALLOW THE YELLOW DUCKS.”
Because animals communicate.
They warn each other about danger. Some seem to know when storms are coming. They know where food is. They migrate thousands of miles. Whales sing to each other across enormous stretches of ocean. Dolphins have incredibly complex social lives.
So who’s to say they don’t have their own version of the news?
“Attention reef residents: excellent dining conditions reported three miles south.”
“Strong currents moving in from the east.”
“Whale family arriving around sunset. Please clear the main corridor.”
“Humans with tanks on their backs spotted nearby. Mostly harmless. Extremely nosy.”
Maybe the ocean is constantly talking, and we just don’t speak the language.
And that is what fascinates me so much about what’s underneath us.
We spend so much time looking up.
The sky.
The stars.
Space.
Other planets.
What might be out there.
But what about what’s down there?
There is an entire world underneath the surface of this one.
I have friends who scuba dive, and the way they describe it sounds almost extraterrestrial. You descend into the water, and suddenly you’re somewhere completely different. The sounds change. Your body moves differently. Everything slows down. You’re surrounded by creatures living entire lives that have absolutely nothing to do with ours.
Imagine swimming through clear blue water surrounded by bright coral and colorful fish. Imagine seeing old shipwrecks or statues sitting silently on the ocean floor. Imagine finding remnants of places that have been underwater longer than we have been alive.
I want that.
I want underwater history.
I want Atlantis.
I want dolphin language lessons.
I want to meet my dolphin pod family because I have decided we probably all have one. Somewhere out there is a group of dolphins saying, “Brooks still hasn’t visited?”
I’m coming, guys.
I’ve always loved underwater worlds. The Little Mermaid. Atlantis. Whales. Dolphins. Submarines. Sunken cities. Ocean mysteries. Give me all of it.
The funny thing is, I’m not even a huge ocean swimmer.
I grew up around Charleston water, and Charleston water is murky. I’ll get in it—I’ve been getting in it since I was a kid—but given the choice?
Give me clear water.
I like to see what I’m getting into.
I respect the ocean tremendously, but I would prefer to know whether the thing touching my ankle is seaweed or someone from the Under the Sea News Network trying to get an exclusive interview.
So maybe scuba diving is somewhere in my future.
Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere colorful. Somewhere with history underneath the surface.
And until then, I think one day I’m going to go into meditation and ask my guides to take me underwater.
Not physically.
Just let me visit.
Show me the reefs. Show me the whales. Show me Atlantis. Introduce me to the dolphins. Let me hear what the ocean sounds like when humans aren’t talking over it.
Maybe I’ll even catch the evening news.
“And finally tonight: a human from Charleston has entered the underwater realm. She appears friendly, highly curious, and has been asking repeatedly to speak with the dolphins. More on this story at eleven.”
I’ll let you know how it goes.
