There is much to be said for vanishing. Short escapes from the frenzied tumult of modern life help to calibrate the soul and maintain perspective.

I've learned that proper escape requires more than disconnecting electronic devices and traveling to faraway lands. Though people may not follow you on your journey, your thoughts are more tenacious. Anxieties, memories, hopes, and fears stow away in your crowded cranium, accompanying you across the globe like irritating travel companions.

But not under the water.

Every scuba dive begins in commotion. The serenity of a leisurely boat ride shatters as passengers and crew scramble to prepare for the dive. Put on the wetsuit, rinse the mask, check the tanks, attach the gear. You clamber into a harness and totter shakily towards the stern of the boat with fifty pounds of equipment and weights strapped to your body. There is no room for superfluous thoughts as you long-stride off the edge and crash into the bright blue water.

The clamor disappears in an instant as the sea's silence swallows you. Your mind is now occupied by urgent demands of survival. Equalize the pressure in your ears, check your air gauge, watch your depth, keep your buddy in view, establish buoyancy. And breathe. In and out. Slow and smooth.

Now you've reached the sea floor forty or fifty feet below the surface, all sandy and pale. You poke one finger into the sand to feel the grains and push off gently. Your companions settle beside you and mutely exchange "OK" hand signals. Then you swim, casually scissoring your legs to propel yourself gently through the blue.

At last you have some space to think...but not about the world up there. Your anxieties and cares remain far above, deflected by the rippling surface of the sea that you can still see shimmering in the sun when you look up. This dark silent space is too alien for them to penetrate.

There is no sense of gravity down here, nothing to prevent you from fluttering in any direction you please other than the gentle tug of current and the need to stay close to your companions.

Your senses are mediated and transformed by the sea. The vivid reds, greens, and yellows of coral and fish struggle to shine through a blue filter. At first, the only sound is the slow rhythm of your breath, but when you listen between breaths, you can hear the crackle of fish tapping hungrily at the coral.

Your mind turns to exploration. You peek into purple trumpets of coral to look for fish sheltering inside. Floating head down, you peer under crevices to find huge lobsters and crabs staring sullenly back at you. Squinting into the blue, you scan for green sea turtles sprawled on the sea floor and sting rays fluttering in the sand.

In some dive spots, great pillars of calcified coral rise up from the depths; you can glide between them like a bird through a forest of giant trees. In others, round knobs of the coral reefs extend in a line across the sand, presenting their charms like beauty pageant contestants as the current carries you over each in turn.

But even as the fish and formations distract you, the sense of precariousness remains. You are able to visit this strange land by the grace of your air tanks, and the visa is brief. You take your breath slowly, sipping it like wine, but every glance at your air gauge reveals the dwindling supply. Meanwhile, a dive computer strapped to your forearm like a chunky Dick Tracy wristwatch attentively reminds you how much time you may safely stay down. Eventually, the clock ticks down, the air dwindles, and it's time to ascend.

You pause motionless for a few more minutes just below the surface to give the compressed gases in your blood enough time to slip away. Then the dive computer beeps, and you pop your head out of the water, back into the sun and the wind and the harrumphing sound of the boat churning towards you.

As you clamber aboard, those thoughts and anxieties slip back into your head unannounced. But they're quieter now, chastened perhaps by their momentary exile. And in a few hours, you will be able to dive again.

If you enjoy diving or would like to learn, Cozumel, Mexico is one of the most beautiful dive spots in the world as well as a great place to vacation. I highly recommend the fantastic folks at Dive Cooperative, who trained and guided me.

Update: I will also discuss my experience with Tim Danahey on Castle Rock Radio at 2:15pm ET on Wednesday, June 22.