The cave rescue of Thai boys soccer team sent off a flurry of emotions. A flood of happy chemicals through my body.
Among the two divers who first made contact, Rick Stanton really seemed like an enigmatic figure. I watched the documentary called Into the darkness that night.
The most intriguing thing about him was his demeanor, where he explains what he was as a student at 21. An individual with a uncommon urge to go explore caves in the remote parts of Britain. Few friends do join in on the venture. They eventually drop out. But his own madness wouldn’t drop out. And he goes on to become one of the greatest cave divers on Earth.
I know most would have dismissed his activities as a stupid indulgence with no tangible benefit. They might have changed their minds a little now.
That brings to me to my own self. My own rantings. My own dissatisfaction.
I mostly want to live on the edge. And more and more I think of it, I’m doing it wrong. It has been ages since I experienced adrenaline. I’m just stagnated at dopamine. Fucking shit.
I’ve just been checking places off the list. That beach, this mountain blah blah. For what? Instagram and Facebook? I can’t believe that I haven’t experienced fear in many many months.
The last I remember was my first Scuba dive. Left alone by the instructor on the ocean floor while he went away to help my friend. I felt surreal. Afraid. Small. Dead. Alive.
And I struggle with finding company to do crazy stuff. People willing to cross the danger line. I still do my best to grab people and take to places where I want to experience thrill. But they don’t always venture. Some stop at the cave entrance, some when the water gets deeper, some when the climb becomes precarious, some when it starts getting darker.
My brother used to be my best company when we were kids. We did stuff that was nuts. Stuff we didn’t realize was actually dangerous until we actually got back. And sheepishly used to tell our moms. But he’s moved to a different place. And I still struggle with company.
Sometimes it irritates me. Why on Earth doesn’t anybody else come and tell me something like
“Dude, there’s this terrific river in the valley I’ve been to and nobody ever goes to the other side. You think we can make a raft and do something wild?”
or
You know what’s more scary than trekking this slope. Riding it down on a bicycle! Next week?
I know I am ranting. There are such people. Sometimes old friends do call up unexpectedly and say “That places you talked about last time. Count me in when you’re going”. Those days it feels better. I should do more of that maybe.