My meditation today started in the jacuzzi.
Naked. Outside. In water.
There is something deeply freeing about being fully unclothed, immersed, and exposed to the elements that makes inner work easier. More honest. Less defended. It strips away performance before you even realize you’re performing.
I know not everyone has access to this kind of space. I don’t take that lightly. I’m deeply grateful that this is something my husband and I can enter every day if we choose.
Before that, these moments came in waves. In places that were outside the norm. Travel. The unfamiliar. The slightly forbidden. The environments where comfort loosens its grip and curiosity takes over.
That’s where a lot of magic has found me.
I think we’re more open when we don’t fully know what’s coming next. When we’re not in our routines. When we step into the unknown with our senses awake.
Water has always been one of those portals for me.
We all begin there. Naked. Floating. Held. Before gravity. Before language. Before identity. There is something ancient and cellular about returning to water, a memory older than thought.
I remember skinny dipping in bioluminescence in the Pacific Ocean where I grew up. The electric blue light igniting with every movement of my body. It wasn’t something I was watching, it was something I was causing. Every stroke, every kick, every laugh lit the water around me.
It made the connection unmistakable.
I wasn’t separate from nature.
I was participating in it.
I remember another night in Thailand, a full moon hanging over the ocean. A friend and I slipped into the water without clothing and without hesitation. We laughed. We splashed. We floated. We didn’t care if anyone saw us. We didn’t care to see each other.
There was no embarrassment. No self-consciousness. No body to manage.
Just joy. Just presence. Just being part of something larger than ourselves.
I think that’s why water feels so powerful to so many of us. It’s not just symbolic. It’s physical. It holds us. It lightens us. Buoyancy changes how we experience our own weight.
Grounding can do that too, but it’s different. Each of us has elements that help us return more easily. Water is one of mine. I hope to fully embrace all of them one day.
When I give myself that, when I allow myself to be naked, immersed, unarmored, I feel safe. I feel held. And from that place, I can move outside of myself.
That’s what I’m experiencing now.
Not escape.
Expansion.
A remembering that I don’t have to brace to be present.
That I don’t have to harden to be open.
That sometimes, the deepest work happens when I let myself float.
