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My skin was on fire–burning, white-hot. Only quite the opposite, as the glacial water shocked my body. The duality of these experiences melded into one. Even in two wet suits, my teeth imitated the local red-headed woodpeckers. With an unnecessarily deep breath, I submerged myself. The world turned glossy and fluid. My heartbeat battled my brain; instincts told me we were drowning yet only compressed air soaked my lungs. Adrenaline swelling, I wrestled the longing to return to the sunlight overhead away from this watery prison. The natural springs in Florida remain a constant temperature year-round, exquisite in the humid summer months but nippy during their winters. The water rested around 67 °F at Morrison Springs in Ponce De Leon, Florida. Our group gathered around to complete our final task–the open water dive. I was the last to arrive to our SCUBA circle twenty feet down. To earn our certification, we each had to swim to the surface on a single breath, simulating an emergency ascent with no oxygen. My father, an experienced diver, joined us below to watch the show. One by one each person fulfilled their diving requirements, and only I remained. With a deep drag on my regulator and an “okay” from my father, I placed a hand above my head and kicked with straightened knees. Propelling upwards, I released a steady stream of bubbles from my mouth to not rupture my lungs. My hand touched the dry air first, followed by a burst of sunlight. A surge of applause arose from the group. I took off my fogged goggles and saw genial faces and words of congratulations; we were SCUBA certified. I made a mental note to purchase a diving flag decal for my car’s bumper; I was part of the movement now. After the celebration died down, the instructors encouraged us to dive with partners and explore on our own. Freezing, I opted to bask in the sun like a true Florida gator. Once warmed up, I replaced my freezing, sodden gear. Trudging back to the dive spot with over forty pounds of gear I reconsidered getting back in the water. But how many other opportunities would I get to dive alongside my father? With a hand to my mask and regulator, I made my way to the dock’s edge. My green fins poked over the dock. A cavernous breath to check the gear’s functionality an extra time. One giant step, and I was underwater. I floated within the same world but another realm altogether. Cerulean water stretched far and danced along the sandy bottom. The ancient cypress trees seemed unbreakable above the surface, but their roots betrayed their vulnerable nature. No creatures showed themselves, wishing to stay veiled in the caverns shaped by the roots. Before I was too distracted to take in the mystical surroundings but now, I was fully awake. My father stayed near but allowed me to explore on my own. Equalizing came more naturally, and the water no longer seemed cold. A shallow gradient exponentially shifted into a giant cavern in the center of the spring, seemingly leading to the center of the world. No light escaped from this vortex, and only darkness emerged from the gaping fissure. A timeworn cypress trunk sat across the cave’s entrance creating a perch to rest thirty feet below the surface. I landed kicking up sand, disturbing its natural slumber. As the water became hazy from my rookie mistake, I remained transfixed. I was visiting an entirely different planet, kept secret by a small portion of people and wildlife. This is how the first explorers must have felt–alert, alive, present. Delving into an ancient world known only to a few. Unable to communicate, yet fully aware of the impact, both good and bad, they could impart on the place. This concealed sphere created an enigma. I saw the underwater ecosystem’s fragility; how one unsought touch destroys decades of work. Yet, I also saw this place’s resiliency. The way it rebuilds and reshapes, sways in the water, to restore what once was. Places like these will survive long past humanity, but that day I dove in the past, future, and present.