It was mid-January and there was a crisp, damp breeze kicking off the green waters of the Puget Sound. I watched as a few of my friends ran straight into the freezing water, gasping at the cold shock as they submerged themselves. I took a deep breath and walked in slowly, feeling the water creep up like an icy hand until it reached my waist. This was my first cold plunge in many years, and I was really only thinking two things: I don’t think I have ever been this cold in my life and this is the most present and alive I have felt in months. 

For the first time in my life, I have been dealing with true, deep grief. In October, one of my best friends passed away unexpectedly. The first few days felt surreal, like waking up in a dream. I didn’t have any experience to compare it to. For weeks, I tried to understand how to handle my emotions. It was like fighting upstream against a current or trying to right yourself and find the surface after being toppled by a wave. I’ve heard people describe grief before, oftentimes using phrases evocative of water: “Grief comes in waves” and “drowning in grief”. Up until a couple of months ago, it seemed slightly ironic to me. I have always viewed the water as a healing thing, a place to be present and feel rejuvenated. But those first few weeks, I understood the sentiment. Grief is huge–powerful like the waves and consistent like the tides.  

I spent a decent amount of time trying to find something that made me feel a little bit normal. In the midst of grief, it can be difficult to know where to start. People tell you to take care of yourself, to be gentle and kind. What they don’t tell you is that it’s very hard to know how to do that when your whole world has been turned upside down. Many of the things that made me feel grounded and joyful weren’t able to do that for me. It was then that I realized that there’s one thing that never fails to put me at peace or quiet my mind. I started walking to the water. Sometimes to Greenlake or down to the Burke Gilman as it runs along the canal to Lake Union. Being near the water has an effect, an ability to calm the nervous system and reset things. 

Researchers have tried to describe why water might have this effect, calling it soft fascination. The idea is that water is both dynamic and soothing, something that can hold attention but not require significant effort to focus on. Some days I would walk next to it or dip my hands in, even when it was freezing cold. Other times I would go and just sit with my headphones in. Not only was I in that state of soft fascination, I was finding a way to let my mind wander and try to get out of the deep state of grief I was in. 

In the past, I’d never thought about my sense of connection to water beyond enjoying being in and around it. But this period of grief has caused me to ruminate on the more spiritual and cultural significance of water, both for myself and for people around the globe. For centuries, people have been using water in religious and cultural ceremonies. There is a strong basis for the notion that all life on earth comes from water, humans alone are on average 60% water. Many cultures view water as a sacred life source, something revered for the gifts it can bring. The Aztecs had a goddess representative of all natural manifestations of water. Aboriginal Australian Ngarrindjeri culture views the River Murray as “an artery of a living body”. Even present day Christianity in southern Africa has ties to water as a religious, sacred space where baptisms are performed. But beyond the religious and spiritual connections to water, people have been using water as a form of therapy or medicine. Hydrotherapy, water-based decompression tanks, and even saunas are all ways to utilize the physical and mental benefits that water can give you. 

The link between physical and mental health can’t be ignored in this conversation. Being near or in the water has a way of calming and helping soothe the soul, but it also has many known health benefits. Water activities such as open water swimming, kayaking, and surfing all have the physical benefits of increased blood flow, circulation, muscle mass, and general cardiovascular health. The physical benefits of water interactions can certainly contribute to the mental health-related benefits. However, you don’t need to be exercising in or on water to have those positive outcomes. Water can provide a sense of solace and peace that is often hard to find. People who spent time open water swimming self-reported improved mood and associated emotional benefits. The colors, sounds, and smells associated with water can act as a natural buffer to stress. 

During the first few months of my grieving process, I wasn’t necessarily thinking about the specific ways in which water was helping me. I was more focused on the feeling of respite from the constant heaviness of grief, something that permeates so much of your life when you lose someone. The ability to turn down the noise in your brain and to escape outside your own thoughts is so powerful. I urge everyone to take some time in these coming weeks to be near water, whether it be a lake, a river, or even a fountain in a park. Allow your brain to take a break from the stress and sadness it may be facing and know that like that water itself, these feelings will ebb and flow. 

Note: Contact Currents Editor-in-Chief for access to “The Underrated Therapy for Anxiety and Stress: Water.”, “Self-Reported Benefits and Risks of Open Water Swimming to Health, Wellbeing and the Environment: Cross-Sectional Evidence from a Survey of Scottish Swimmers.”