I never thought I’d willingly sink down under the ocean’s surface, my life tethered to a man-made machine.

I recently learned how to scuba dive. This surprised even me. The idea of going below the surface and relying on technology to breathe was terrifying. But then an opportunity came up and I thought I’d try it. So many people have expressed their love of scuba diving to me I figured I would enjoy it too.

The first day my anxiety was so intense I had to bail halfway through. My body was screaming “Kate, get back up there, this is NOT where we are supposed to be!” The instructor was incredibly kind and supportive and helped me work through the skills course over a week. Eventually I was able to dive to 60 feet in tropical Caribbean waters. I still can’t believe it.

Once I managed to go deep, I was pretty blown away by the rich and vibrant world taking place below. And you’d just never know it looking at the surface.

At the same time, I’d been reading Deep by James Nestor, a book about freedivers and the ocean. Both the book and the experience of diving highlight for me how much more is going on below the surface than we know. I mean, the FISH! The coral! Lobsters, sponges, sharks, urchins, anenomes, crabs, eels, slugs… And these are just the visible things. Deep explores the unseen ways the ocean connects to life on land. And yet, it's easy to spend our lives at the surface, unaware of the incredible depth below.

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This connects to my work as well. Sometimes I find it difficult to explain what I do in words. I work in the world of visuals where much of the impact happens beneath the surface. I could tell you that the color red evokes alarm and urgency, but of course that’s meaningless against the actual experience of looking at red.

Working for social change, your work feels urgent and you know people will care if you can get through to them. “Let’s get them all the information!” But we live in an era where people are drowning in data. Whether it’s government transparency, environmental justice or impact investing, it’s not the data that convinces people that your work matters. The data comes second, once they already care. And in order to care, they must feel. All the mushy, inexplicable HUMAN stuff must come first. Stories, images, textures… all those things that work below the surface drive our opinions and behaviors. That’s where we must operate as communicators.

When I ask someone why they got into social impact work, it’s rarely because of a compelling dataset. It’s almost always a personal story, a connection to another human, nature or something else profoundly meaningful. It’s not even rational – it’s intuitive.

Another thing I noticed about the world of the reef below is how much variety there is. Every square foot is slightly different from the last. It’s amazing and wonderful. It’s also something that I love about my work. Creativity is infinite. Every project is new: the team is slightly different, the political climate changes, the season surrounding the email that goes out. On a personal level, I love to immerse myself in new environments and learn new skills as I find that it brings fresh ideas. All this is organic. We couldn’t possibly predict or plan for the complexity that will exist with our communications. But we can embrace it and revel in the opportunity to engage and inspire the people on the other end of our emails.

Swimming around with those colorful fish isn’t so different from my work. Together with my clients, we go deep. We swim in the pre-verbal world and innovate endlessly, responding to our audiences and the moment in time. It’s splendid.