Menu of Meditations


The Deep-Sea Diver

The movie, "Men of Honor," dramatizes the career of Master Diver Carl Brashear. Cuba Gooding, Jr. plays the role of Brashear and co-star Robert DeNiro is a fictional Master Diver named Billy Sunday. The movie calls fresh attention to the exciting but dangerous life of deep-sea divers. These brave people descend into the ocean depths to rescue those in peril, to repair naval equipment, to retrieve valuable cargo, and to explore what is inaccessible to others. Consider what is involved:

A diver accepts the challenge of entering an alien dimension where he is entirely vulnerable. He cannot breathe normally, his body cannot withstand the increased pressure, his vision is limited, even his ability to move about is restricted. And so he needs special equipment. He dons a bulky and uncomfortable hardsuit, tops it off with an ungainly helmet, allows himself to be hooked up to a variety of hoses and wires, and thus becomes almost entirely immobile. He has to be lowered into the water before the function of the suit becomes apparent. It enables him to breathe, to move, to operate tools and equipment, and to withstand the tremendous pressures which would otherwise crush his body.

But the diver is dependent upon something even more important than his hardsuit. His very existence is in the hands of his support team which remains on the surface. They feed him air, they stay in communication with him, they help him make decisions, they monitor his physical condition, and they tell him when he has been below the surface for long enough. And, should he get into a dangerous situation, they intervene to save his life. Without those in the boat above him, the diver would be unable to complete his mission.

The deep-sea diver is a metaphor for our physical/spiritual existence.

We have chosen to incarnate on earth, to enter an alien dimension where we are vulnerable to the pressures of human existence. We cannot function here in our normal spiritual mode: we have no memory of our true nature and origin; we cannot communicate by thought and so must learn a new language; our vibration level is slowed dramatically which makes travel and labor slow and tedious; and we lose our sense of connectedness so that we spend a great amount of effort defending ourselves against those around us.

To make it possible to survive in this hostile environment, we don a hardsuit, our physical body. This suit, while it makes our existence possible on this plane, carries with it numerous drawbacks: it needs a constant supply of oxygen, it has to be fed, clothed and sheltered, its parts must all function reasonably well, and it demands to be unconscious for one hour out of every three! To top off the hardsuit, we don a helmet which contains our brain. This organ is essential in terms of operating our bodily equipment, but its mental processes constantly interfere with the higher, non-physical purposes of our existence. So, just as the diver gives up his freedom to function comfortably when he dons his hardsuit, we choose to sacrifice the freedom of the spiritual realm in order to be part of the physical world for a time. But these sacrifices make it possible for the diver and the human to experience a whole new dimension of existence.

All of this would be overwhelming, impossible, were it not for our support team "in the boat" overhead. Our angels, spirit guides, departed loved ones, form a group which makes it possible for us to function down here. They constantly pump the spiritual air of hope and faith to us, they monitor our status and warn us of dangers, they signal their presence in a variety of ways, they communicate through the hoses and wires of prayer and meditation. In short, they make every effort to provide us with whatever we need to complete our mission. And at some point they indicate to us that it is time to return to the surface.

How do you suppose they feel when we ignore their existence and take their efforts for granted, even though without them we would be helpless?


Posted Mar. 1, 2004

Copyright: John W. Sloat 2004