Healing with Water

It is believed that we came from the ocean. After an ancient molten earth cooled and solidified, oxygen was born. Our newly physical planet then withstood the battering of meteor showers, which pocked the earth but did not destroy it, the original acne scars. From the chaos of meteor crashes, surface solidification, and a newly emergent sun, more chemical compounds emerged, and eventually seas were born. And within the seas, single-cell organisms eventually became multicellular.

Millions of years later, some fish emerged from the seas, the original mermaids, and they dared to crawl on land.

Perhaps it can be argued that this first fish to venture to land was the original Eve, the first organism to yearn for a new world, the first pilgrim to eat the forbidden apple. Look at a fish closely the next time you see one. It is your ancestor.

We came from water. Though we departed from it, we still need it. It comprises most of our body, including our mind. It transports our blood to the necessary extremities that interact with the world around us. It transports our wastes out of us. It sustains our life, which is at its core a constant cycle of renewal and depletion. Physically, there is no element more powerful than water.

Water cleanses metaphorically too. Baptisms require water to expel our sinful nature from our souls. Hot baths relax the mind and body. They say that as water crystallizes, its formation can vary depending on external stimuli. Play heavy metal music as the water crystallizes, and the shape of the crystal will appear different than it would had one played classical music.

Despite all of our cleaning products infused with chemicals, the simple fact is that warm water kills more than 99% of harmful bacteria. What remains is the bacteria that our body can accept, or could before the Western obsession with sanitization. Yet we shower with a million products.

Water is the line in the middle of the yin/yang symbol. It is a unique chemical compound in its natural state, literally existing between two worlds, between solid and gas. Too cold or too hot and it transforms to one or the other.

It seems fitting that for now, while walking is a bit of a struggle, I should turn back to swimming. I enjoy running; we learn to run before we learn to read. However, it will be awhile before I can run again.

Swimming was our original activity, if you trace our evolution to our most ancient ancestors.

I’ve heard that it’s useful to pray to water, that water is malleable enough and amorphous enough to absorb the prayer and manifest it into something tangible. If water can transmute itself, perhaps it can similarly shape intention. If so, the next time I take a swim, I’ll pray to be absolved of not only my foot pain, but my own drive to consume more. We were not born with a thirst for more; we learned it. I hope that the next time I swim, I will realize that I already have enough.