This year was very arduous for all of us. Yet, amidst the fear and difficulty, unforeseen events unfolded that threw me into a chain of circumstances I could never have imagined. The door to adventure opened wide and I fell through, like Alice tumbling through the looking glass into a new and exotic world.

It all began with a gift. I was watching a pale red wafer of sun setting above the golden spire of a Buddhist temple in the wild hills of Northern Thailand. I would be going home soon; back to the island I love, yet I would miss this peaceful world with its mysteries and solemn practices. I turned and saw a silhouette standing calmly behind me. My husband Bill spoke in his low, rich voice: “I have something for you, for your birthday.”

I could make out his hands in the fading light, but there was nothing in them.

“We are going back in time.”

I could just make out the corners of a smile and his eyes shone briefly in the twilight.

“I am taking you on a voyage to a primeval world that exists nowhere else on the planet.”

I could feel my eyes widen.

“We are sailing to the forgotten archipelago of Raja Ampat to dive with the whale sharks of Triton Bay.”

“Where?” I did not know whether to be excited or scared.

“The most remote corner of Indonesia. No roads; we can only get there by boat. We leave in two days.”

And so, I found myself watching another sunset; this time on the deck of an old Dutch schooner, sailing in a maze of 600 uninhabited islands that share the most pristine, underwater coral ecosystem in the world.

We dove three times a day and, as Bill said, each time we entered a world as rich and vibrant and wild as Jurassic Park. I swam with enormous, gentle manta rays, so close I could touch their sandpapery skin, and I mingled with vibrant schools of silver tuna swirling above reefs festooned with surreal corals in phantasmagorical shapes.

We were in the most remote area of the South Pacific. We didn’t have internet, we didn’t know the news, we were one-on-one with an underwater world so rich and diverse I had to pinch myself to believe it existed.

Yet for me, the most remarkable event took place in a small lake on a tiny island overgrown with thick jungle. In the luminous, humid haze of dawn, we took the dinghy to a calm and empty lagoon. We made out a partial trail up the slippery, mossy rocks. It led up and disappeared over a high ridge. It was very steep, and we pulled ourselves up by tree roots and random handholds.

Monkeys screamed at us from the forest canopy. Drenched in sweat, we looked down the other side at the oval shape of a jade green lake.

It was quiet now, just the low throbbing of the jungle, a mix of insects and birds. “Keep an eye out for crocodiles,” Bill whispered in my ear. “And remember what you see will not sting you, no matter what.”

We climbed down, slipped into our mask and fins, and slid out onto the glassy surface. The water was salty and cool. And then I almost screamed with delight!

We were surrounded by thousands of glowing orange globes. They gracefully contracted and expanded in concert with my breathing, and a deep sense of awe radiated through every part of me. Many were the size of grapefruits, some were as big as basketballs, and others would fit in the palm of your hand. They were jellyfish, and they moved like time-lapse flowers, opening and closing to an unheard music that seemed to be the pulse of life.

The lake was completely filled and crowded; a vast school of jellyfish all swimming spontaneously towards sunlight and life.

If a dinosaur appeared on the shoreline, I would have nodded and said, “Of course.”

Everywhere jellyfish pulsed in a slow endless rhythm with their tentacles moving gracefully. The sun was shining through their translucent, elliptical and tender bodies and they were luminous and glowing with a warm tangerine colour. I was floating next to them and with them, feeling with my whole body their glorious, fluid energy. I sensed them when they gently bounced into me.

It was a quiet and meditative swim. I literally thought I was in a different universe and, to be more precise, in a cosmic jellyfish galaxy. I was speechless, I was crying.

We swam for hours with these pulsing, living globes of light, endlessly dancing their primordial ballet. The light fell in cathedral-like shafts through the emerald waters. It was as if we had been given an insight into the heartbeat of evolution itself.

I realised we are all one family of life; we came from the same simple organic beginnings and we are now on a trajectory to the stars. Bill took my hand and we floated in wonder looking, looking at this ancient magical alchemy, this soup of life that ages ago we climbed out of to lay gasping on an irresistible shore.

On the schooner, I learned that there are only three known lakes like this in the world. The one we saw today, one Bill visited in the small island group of Palau, and one in Borneo, all thousands of miles apart. The jellyfish have been completely isolated for untold millions of years. They have no predators, so they never developed the ability to sting. They live in a world so benign they never have to defend themselves. Think of that!

When I am sad or worried, I remember moments I cherish; swimming in the jellyfish lake is one of so many. Dear readers, hold close to your heart the moments of magic you love. Then look forward. We are all moving towards a future filled with light!

Nina London is a certified wellness and weight-management coach. Her mission is to support and inspire mature women to make positive changes in their body and mind. Share your inspirational stories with her at www.ninalondon.com