Diving in Bonito is also a dive inside me – 02/14/2024 – Zeca Camargo

Four minutes of descent. And throughout the journey I only remembered one of my favorite childhood cartoons: “Journey to the Center of the Earth”.

The title refers to Jules Verne’s classic, which was explicitly the inspiration for the TV adventures. However, I only read the book as an adult.

Unless you’re something like me in my 60s or passionate about a “vintage cartoon”, the reference may have escaped you. But while my classmates in early school dreamed of being astronauts, I just wanted to join Professor Lindenbrook’s team of explorers.

And dive into our planet…

The association was inevitable: suspended by a rope, free from thoughts for a few moments, forced to adjust my senses, I let my memory run wild through my synapses. And they came furiously, every inch that I descended from the Anhumas abyss.

Yes, I was back in Bonito (MS) – and this time seeing everything! Regular readers of this space will remember the first time I went to this paradise and, inadvertently, I forgot to take disposable contact lenses that correct my severe myopia.

Imagine my frustration at being in one of the most beautiful places in the world and seeing everything out of focus… The only relief, as I said, was floating in the Sucuri River, since the refraction of the snorkel mask in the water corrected my vision.

This time, last week, I was prepared: I had a month’s worth of lenses in my backpack! And I remembered that too as I descended into the abyss. And I thanked myself for being able to see every detail of this wonderful place.

More than once I have shared with you here my preference for cities on my travels. The previous column, dedicated to frenetic Bangkok, was further proof of this. But when a spectacle of nature takes me by surprise, I lose my bearings.

As no photo I took there could capture the splendor of those forms, no matter how well I choose the words to describe the abyss, they will not be enough. It all seems too technical.

A 72 meter descent to the surface of the water. A precise beam of sunlight that comes in to illuminate the stalactites and stalagmites, as well as other dreamlike forms. A crystal clear dark blue lake. A peace…

I wasn’t alone. I traveled this time with a group of friends and a film crew. Silence, once you reach the small floating platform that allows you to observe everything, is desired but impossible.

Even so, between gasps of astonishment from my colleagues and discreet instructions for the recordings, I had the feeling of being in an isolating cone, which didn’t allow me to hear anything other than my heart.

And what he was saying to me was too strong: all the turbulence of the days, all the violence and tenderness of affections old and new, all the compliments and insults collected, all the experiences that we sometimes fail to translate into compassion.

It was a cacophony that I couldn’t control and didn’t know if I welcomed. And it became even more deafening when I immersed myself in that cold mirror. Until suddenly everything finally went silent.

And what I had was just my body, free, floating, in perfect connection with everything. I had the lucid certainty that, at the end of it all, we walk with ourselves. An idea that there, submerged in that abyss, did not seem terrifying to me, but liberating.

There, in the center of the Earth, I was whole, embraced by everything I had experienced. Sad and hopeful. Tired and renewed. Fragmented and whole. Alone and infinite.

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