On finding stillness beneath the surface and among the trees.
To me there is something enormously comforting about being underwater.
To explain that, I probably need to go back a little.
I grew up by the ocean in Australia, spending my childhood with salt on my skin and the sound of waves as the backdrop was my every day.
I lived there until my mid-twenties before moving to New York City and eventually settling in upstate New York.
No matter where I have lived the ocean has always felt like home.
For me, there is no sound more comforting than waves rolling onto the shore.
And there is no feeling quite like slipping beneath the surface.
The moment the water closes over your head, the world disappears.
Everything becomes quieter, slower, softer.
Completely submerged, you feel almost suspended between worlds.
The weight of the water holds you, yet somehow you feel lighter.
It’s one of the few places where my mind becomes completely still.
It is meditation without trying to meditate.
Every spring and summer I make a point of being underwater at least once a day.
It begins when the water is painfully cold in early spring, the kind that steals your breath for a moment.
This lasts through August when the sun has warmed it into something almost silky and I take my last plunge normally around the end of October.
If I’m not in the ocean, my favorite place is a small plunge pool, just nine by fifteen feet, tucked away in the middle of our walled garden in upstate New York.
Hidden amongst the flowers and trees, it feels like a secret.
At the beginning and end of the season, the water is icy.
I often find myself standing on the edge in the chilly morning air, trying to gather the courage to get in.
I’ve learnt that for me, there is only one way to do it, I have to jump. If I try to ease myself in slowly, I somehow lose my nerve. The longer I hesitate, the harder it becomes.
So I jump.
Sometimes I settle into the cold almost immediately, slipping beneath the surface until everything goes quiet.
Other days, I last only a minute or two before I scramble out, wrap myself in a towel and hurry back inside.
Even then, I always feel as though I’ve achieved something. There is a quiet satisfaction in doing this before the day has even begun.
Those few minutes beneath the surface have become a daily ritual.
There are many scientific explanations for why it feels so restorative.
Salt water naturally supports the body, easing pressure on joints and muscles while providing gentle resistance for movement.
It is rich in minerals like magnesium, calcium and potassium that help soothe the skin, while cold water stimulates circulation and leaves you feeling wide awake!
Some research also suggests that spending time in the ocean may help support the immune system and overall wellbeing, this I find especially true.
Whether it’s science or simply memory, I always emerge feeling lighter after a swim.
The only other thing that comes close for me is standing beneath a grand
canopy of old trees.
Watching branches sway together in the wind, listening to leaves rustle overhead, I also find incredibly calming.
I’ve often joked that I’m equal parts water baby and tree hugger.
I don’t know nearly enough about forest bathing to speak like an expert, but I do know how it feels.
Walking through the woods with my dog Marlo, surrounded by every imaginable shade of green, I feel instantly at home.
Sometimes I like to imagine the trees quietly talking beneath my feet through their vast underground root systems.
Scientists now know that forests really do communicate in remarkable ways, sharing nutrients and chemical signals through fungal networks hidden below the soil.
It feels almost incredible to think that these giants have been quietly conversing long before we arrived.
I often wonder what they have witnessed over the centuries, what they talk about?
How many people have walked beneath their branches without ever looking up?
How many seasons have they quietly endured?
Storms, celebrations, heartbreaks, generations passing beneath them while they simply continued growing and watching silently.
The science surrounding forests is just as remarkable.
Studies have shown that spending time amongst trees can lower blood pressure, reduce stress hormones, improve sleep, support respiratory health and simply leave us feeling better.
Again, perhaps the science simply confirms what our bodies have known all along.
It makes me smile that whenever work becomes overwhelming, I find myself using expressions like we’re in the deep end, I’m underwater, or I’m completely lost in the woods.
Maybe that isn’t accidental.
Maybe my subconscious isn’t describing stress at all.
Maybe it’s quietly reminding me where I belong.
Away from the screen.
Beneath the water.
Among the trees.
Where everything becomes quieter, nature has always known how to slow us down long before we invented words like mindfulness.
Perhaps that’s why I keep returning to both.
One teaches me to let go.
The other reminds me to stay rooted.
x Rebecca
