Chapter Two: The Surface Life – What I Knew vs. What I Didn't

I was a pool guy. Twelve feet was my ceiling. I had no idea what "deep" really meant.

Before FOSI, I wasn't afraid of water.

Let me be clear about that. I was a pool guy. Laps, cannonballs, floating on my back, hanging out at the beach with a snorkel mask, checking out the sand and small fish just beneath the surface. I knew water. I was comfortable in it.

But I knew it at my level.

The deepest I had ever been was the bottom of a twelve‑foot pool. That was my ceiling. Flat, still, no darkness, no crushing pressure, and absolutely no current.

That spring Jim took us to? That wasn't a pool. That wasn't a beach.

That was a different universe.

The water was dark. The entrance was narrow. And the water wasn't sitting still waiting for me—it was pushing against me with a force I had never felt in my life. I had never fought water before. I had only played in it.

I knew how to splash around. I had no idea how to fight for my life against an underground river while breathing through a tank.

Going down into that tunnel wasn't a swim. It was a war, and I wasn't even sure I knew how to throw a punch.

That's the thing about life. You can be perfectly comfortable in the shallow end. You can know all the rules of the surface. But when the current comes—when life pushes you into a narrow passage you didn't see coming—all that shallow confidence doesn't mean a thing.

You need more than just familiarity with the water.

You need a guide. You need weight. And you need the guts to hold on.

Next time: The day I tried to go down and failed—and why failing was the best thing that could have happened.

Post 3...

The Day I Couldn't Go Down