Summer is coming, though it seems doubtful, judging by the temperatures here in Nova Scotia. My heat has been on all but one or two days for the entire month of May, and with those chilly temperatures, rain has tagged along.
I will not complain about the rain since most of our winter snowfall was washed away in torrential rain and winds, before the melt could soak into the ground. We need the persistent rain. So, I’ll huddle under a blanket and read. I heard the rain falling on my roof and… it got me thinking.
Water, in its many vessels, be it a single raindrop landing gracefully on a spider’s newly woven web, or a river in a hurry to get somewhere, or crawling out from between rocks fed by the force of a spring, or in the vastness of the ocean, in all its forms, water captivates us, draws us in, quenches our physical and emotional thirst.
Children love to play in water, which is understandable considering we begin life in a watery nest. I remember how I calmed my fussy babies with a bath, my hand supporting her as she floated weightless, her eyes getting heavy, or how a wet facecloth gently stroking her face could soften life’s rough edges. I recall the hours of challenging the spring melt rushing to the river and the patience of wading in the pond, poised and ever hopeful to catch a frog.
Humans are drawn to water for many reasons. A newborn’s body is 74 per cent water, and the average adult is 60 per cent water, while an older adult is 50 per cent water. I suppose we are literally drying up as we age. Water speaks to us on an evolutionary level, to our psychology, our physiology, and many of our spiritual practices.
Water is a symbol of life. For hundreds of thousands of years, our survival was based on our nearness to water, which hardwired that need into our genes. “Science Insights” (March 12, 2026) tells us our body reacts physically to water. Touching our face with cold water sends a signal to shift from “fight or flight” toward calm, calling on the vagus nerve (a long nerve running from the brainstem to the abdomen) to put a stop to the stress response. Splashing cold water onto our face is a known antidote to anxiety.
The term “blue mind”, with which I was not familiar, is a phrase coined by marine biologist Wallace J. Nichols. The term describes the meditative state that arises when we are near or under water, a state that goes beyond relaxation, a distinct shift in our brain’s activity.
“Science Insights” goes on to explain how natural environments, especially water, engage our “soft fascination”.
“The movement of waves, the play of light on a surface, the sound of flowing water: these hold your interest without demanding cognitive effort. While your mind is softly engaged, the fatigued systems responsible for focused attention get a chance to recover.” Cortisol levels drop, creativity is enhanced, mood improves as we expand our sense of wonder and awe.
The “mammalian diving reflex” is a survival response our body knows instinctively, shifting into a calmer, oxygen-conserving state when our face contacts water, especially cold water. Blood is redirected to vital organs, heart rate slows and blood vessels in the limbs tighten, all to conserve oxygen. It is a “measurable, well-documented neurophysiological response.” This reflex is universal across the spectrum of mammals.
Water directly affects our nervous system and perhaps explains why, across most if not all cultures, water is the symbol of purification and rebirth. Aboriginal cultures have an ingrained responsibility to protect water. The Māori of New Zealand see water as the path between the spiritual and physical world. Hindu culture brings the Ganges River to life as the goddess Ganga, where river bathing purifies the soul.
