Scuba Diving is the new Yoga

Things to recommend about my second scuba lesson:

• being underwater, thinking only about breathing, no sounds but my regulator wheezing as I inhale and the air bubbles jostling and popping as I exhale. Nothing to take care of but my breath.
• fitting into a scuba suit designed for a teenager. The dive master, Sergei, kept asking me, "what grade are you in?" and then smiling as he enjoyed his little joke. I decided not to look at my reflection in the window and just to imagine lookin' good. I know that I felt sleek.
• getting out of the pool with my regulation vest and full tank of air on my back. At the last step, I doubted whether I could make it, but I was committed to live up to my teacher's expectations. Earlier, when Sergei was being gentlemanly and offering to put the women's tanks into the pool for them, my teacher Michelle, cordially thanked him but cautioned him, no, not to do that. "They're divers," she said. I'm a diver.
• learning new and useful skills, such as trying to emulate Sergei, floating at a few feet off the pool bottom in lotus position, holding on to his fin tips, while using his inhale and exhale to make him rise and lower slightly with each breath. And learning to tow a tired diver by having him lie on his back, put his flippered feet on my shoulders, and swim/push him to safety.
• finding a miniature Three Musketeers bar in each pocket of my down jacket. Giving the good one to my teacher, Michelle, and giving her the flattened one to her to give to her husband, who was teaching some of the other students. I believe in saying thank you with food, especially chocolate.