I spent the last week diving the reefs and cobalt waters of Mauritius. And I remembered a moment, years ago, when I found some reality and a new outlook under water.

Work troubles, a marriage falling apart, nothing working out. We have those moments. Some worse than others. Then a late night phone call: "We are diving in the south tomorrow."

I accepted, just to get away. At five in the morning, the pickup was there. A long ride on bad roads, then a confusion of friends and strangers, a fishing boat, equipment being sorted out, a ride over an unfamiliar sea.

I heard little of the dive briefing, and cared less. Did it matter where we were diving, or what depth? Only a chance word or two: "Don’t fin." 

Between depressing thoughts I wondered at that – how do you dive without finning? Then the divers went over the side, and I followed.

Below me they bombed down into the deep blue, trailing streamers of bubbles. I saw the bottom appear, and checked my depth gauge: 56 meters -- far deeper than I like to dive.

Ahead of us a rock wall, and one by one the divers disappeared into a dark hole. Another thing I usually refuse to do underwater.

I had little choice. We dive in a group, and the others had all gone into the tunnel, which was why you weren’t supposed to fin and stir up sand. I cautiously pulled myself along, into darkness. Below my some coral rock, and I thought that my bones would lie here too.

But then I turned a corner. 

Sunlight flooded in from above, an ethereal blue like a cathedral. Golden fish fluttered in the shifting rays. High above my friends were ascending, encircled by silver bubbles. I followed, towards the sun. Hanging in the azure stillness to decompress, the waves a rippling silver above, I could collect my thoughts.

We surfaced, and I had never felt so alive, so ready to try anew, to face the world.