Both the ocean floor and the human heart

We think we know what depth means. We think it’s about distance from the surface, about how far down something goes. But depth is rarely what it seems to be.

Consider the ocean floor. From the surface, it looks like a flat, featureless plain. But dive down, and you find canyons deeper than the Grand Canyon. Mountains taller than anything on land. Valleys that have never seen light.

The surface tells you nothing about what’s below. The calm water gives no hint of the complexity beneath.

The human heart works the same way. From the outside, you see the surface: the words someone says, the actions they take, the face they show the world. But underneath, there’s a whole landscape shaped by pressure and memory.

Every experience leaves a mark. Every disappointment carves a canyon. Every moment of joy builds a mountain. But these formations are invisible from the surface.

We judge people by what we can see. We make assumptions based on the calm water, not realizing that the real depth, the real complexity, is hidden below.

Certainty is a surface-level phenomenon. It works when you’re dealing with things you can see and measure. But when you’re dealing with depth, whether it’s the ocean floor or the human heart, certainty becomes a liability.

You can’t map the ocean floor by looking at the surface. You can’t understand a person by observing their behavior. You have to dive. You have to explore. You have to be willing to discover that what you thought you knew was wrong.

This is why relationships are so hard. We expect the surface to tell us everything. We expect people to be simple, predictable, easy to understand. But they’re not. They’re complex, layered, full of hidden canyons and unexpected mountains.

Here’s what I’ve learned: the most interesting people are the ones who surprise you. The ones who, when you dive below the surface, reveal depths you never expected.

Maybe they’re quiet because they’re thinking deeply, not because they have nothing to say. Maybe they’re passionate about something you’ve never heard of. Maybe they’ve been shaped by experiences you can’t imagine.

These surprises are what make relationships worth the effort. They’re what make people worth knowing. They’re what remind you that depth is real, even when you can’t see it.

My advice here will be not to trust the surface. Don’t assume you know what’s below. Don’t let certainty prevent you from exploring. Both the ocean floor and the human heart are full of surprises. The only way to discover them is to go below the surface and see what’s really there.