Taco the Octo
Every scuba diver has their unicorn. The animal that’s at the top of their list - either from something they saw in a book as a child, or something they learned existed along the path of life. For me, this was an octopus.
I got dive certified in June, 2022.Since that date, I have strained my eyes on every dive I’ve done trying to spot the elusive octopus - who as they say will only show itself to you IF he or she wants to be seen. I had done so many dives without seeing one that eventually I let it go, realized that I may never see one or it could be years until I do, so I learned to drop the obsession and take in whatever was in front of me with each and every dive.
Fast forward to September 2024. I had the privilege of getting to dive in Oahu, Hawaii. I hired a private guide so that I could go extra slow to learn and practice my new underwater camera (so I wouldn’t slow the main group down). The nerves and excitement I had taking a new device under the water for the first time were electrifying. I wouldn’t have both hands free at times. What if I drop the camera, bang it on something, have an emergency - will I be able to manage it all? How will it affect my buoyancy? What if I didn’t seal the water camera housing just right? Deep breaths. In addition, the pressure knowing this would be my only time diving during this trip felt heavy and full of expectations that I was constantly trying to ease through mindfulness and deep breaths. I was praying I had memorized the hours of studying and practice I had done with the camera on my kitchen table days prior in order to get paint-worthy shots that I could bring back to the studio to recreate into magical moments for you to put on your walls.
“As my private guide and I got to know each other on the boat, I told her it was a bucket list goal of mine to see an octopus”
But I was relaxed about it because every time I dive I strain my eyes searching for them to no avail, so I’ve learned to let it go. She said that she knew the spots to see them but that we are at the mercy of whether or not they WANT us to see them (the 7,435,798th time I’d been told this). From that moment on, I let the idea of seeing one go and we got in the water. We had an amazing first dive. I saw some of the most breathtaking fish and coral - and some of the biggest green sea turtles I’d ever seen! The turtles were so plentiful that I got very used to one, two or three being right next to me at all times. We even saw a turtle cleaning station where they all congregate to sleep and get cleaned by the fish who keep them free of parasites - where I saw up to 7 at one time!
Then about half way through the second dive, I had about 2,000PSI of air left (we have to go back to the boat at 1,000) and I’m filming a sea turtle when all of a sudden I turn my head to put eyes on my guide and she’s making the hand motion for an OCTOPUS! I learned in my early dive days not to get TOO excited because otherwise you inhale rapidly and you totally mess up your bouyancy and the extra air in your lungs lifts you up - and it can be annoying to have to equalize again to get back down to where you started. And you blast through your precious air in the process. So I took one big deep breath then very mindfully let my breathing continue to normal.
,
This was it. This was THE moment I’d been waiting for for YEARS. It was absolutely surreal. I even remember feeling a little dizzy at the surrealism of it all and told myself - “Girl, this is not the time to do this, snap out of it, lock IN.” And sure enough, I slowly swim over to where my guide is and she points to an area in the corals.
I see him - barely because he was so camouflaged. Bumpy and blending in with his surroundings like nothing I’ve ever seen. How in the world can an animal possibly change their entire body to look uncanny to the other life surrounding them. Already speechless. Then as I stayed still and just watched him, tears in my eyes under my mask, trying to remember to exhale extra big to stay down, he would calm his skin to a smooth purplish-red and perk his eyes up and straighten his body, never taking his tentacles out of his den - but watching me constantly. He didn’t mind my new underwater camera but LOATHED my GoPro that I know like the back of my hand. It was fascinating. Every time I took the GoPro out, he tucked down into his den so fast like lightning and would camouflage so perfectly that you could hardly make out where he was. But the new camera that I barely knew how to use? He became a model for it. Thanks a lot bro. As if this wasn’t difficult enough!
I spent as much time as I could taking photos of him, trying to remember everything I learned about best underwater camera settings all while maintaining perfect buoyancy to not bump into any coral. I would squeeze my eyes tight to try to clear them of the gentle tears that kept filling them. Tears of pure joy, disbelief and wonderment. Gratitude that I had never felt before to be lucky enough to see such a spectacle.
He was so curious, playful and expressionistic in the way he’d engage through his eyes, body language and changes of skin color. I felt like he was talking to me the entire time. There is something truly sentient about these creatures and their soul feels deep and all knowing. Their eyes seem to say a thousand words in one second, and somehow, I understood. I reluctantly check my air and see it’s already at 1000 after what felt like one minute (but was probably about 15) and remember not wanting to tell my guide so we wouldn’t have to leave. But I did - and we waved goodbye to the beautiful octopus and headed back to the boat. I remember thinking I could die happily that day with no other desires for my life.
“I was so happy. I was in a dream.”
We got back to the boat and I overheard my guide tell the boat “WE SAW TACO!” And I thought to myself “Awwww what a cute name for an Octopus!” I later learned that Tako is Japanese for Octopus and that’s what they call all the Octopuses they see. But he imprinted in that moment forever as “An Octopus Named Taco” to me. So thats the story, that’s why his name is Taco, and thats why this painting means the entire world to me. EVERY paint stroke of this piece brings me back to the dream-like state I was in that entire time.
“This painting poured from my hands like the most effortless thing I’ve ever done. I hardly had to think during it.”
I paired him with some curious yellow grunts I saw while diving the same location, and of course the rocks he loved to hide under.
This painting is a self portrait in a way as I am the yellow butterfly - restricted to living life on land but grateful beyond belief for the fleeting moments I get to spend in these magical moments below the surface.
