At the beginning of this year, a dear friend sent me a video.

If there is anything she wishes for me, it is movement.

Movement pulls you forward.

Forward momentum brings alignment.

And alignment softens fear.

So I choose the water.

It holds me. I move with it, blend with it, let it merge with me. Tears can fall, energy can be spent. After months away from swimming, I return — and somehow reach a personal best. There is something ancient and beautiful about water. I have always felt it. The fish in me, the mermaid, has always known how to weave herself into this element.

As I pull through the water, I chant softly:

Om Tare Tuttare Ture Soha.

With every stroke, words move through me — aligned, powerful, sovereign, able, calm, balanced. It becomes meditation. Embodied. Alive. The water allows me to weave this magic as I move.

Water makes up 70% of what we are. 70% of what we see.

It is special. It holds memory — of pain, of joy, of all that has passed through it. And yet so few pause to thank it for its life-giving presence. Water does not demand. It does not insist. It simply allows.

Water heals. It permeates the body and reaches places we cannot. You can ask it — gently — to move toward pain that feels unreachable. To carry intention where your mind cannot go. That is magic. That is alchemy.

There is beauty, too, in how small each drop is on its own — seemingly insignificant — and yet together they form towering waves and powerful currents. A reflection, perhaps, of humanity itself. Alone we feel fragile. Together we are immense.

If I do anything in this life, it is to be with water.

To sit in its presence.

To feel its weight, its lightness, its breath.

Water has its own life.

With every glass I drink, I offer energy into it — cleansing it, thanking it for all it gives. Everything begins with water. And in the end, as energy leaves the body, it returns to the same flow water teaches us about.

Nothing is separate.

The water is us.

We are it.

Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream.

No fighting the current.

Just moving — with ease — through the flow of life.