A Watershed Experience of Merging and Emerging

Author: Ritu Garg

Sounds that silence brings and grounding that liquid states bring.

“Water has this unimaginable capacity to illuminate us in its benevolence and eliminate us in its puissance. Illuminate our humbleness and eliminate our hubris.” I heard my subconscious murmur to me, as I was ushered into that beautiful body of water for what was going to be one of the most immersive floating meditations through sound healing.

It was indeed a vacation — a vacation from what “being on land” means. It’s hard to disagree that our life on land is driven by our identity of doing. It’s almost impossible to be in a state of being. We are conditioned to be constantly doing something — there is a constant loop and list of “to-do” things. It’s hard to rest, to relax. The hyperstimulation of social media and the multitude of micro goals keep us in a constant feeling of chase.

And I really don’t think we need to put a “why” to it because we are the Homo faber — “man the maker.” We are designed to do. But once I was in the water, and as the bed floated, I entered the state of being.

My tryst with water has always been through swimming, where one has to act, to keep flapping, to duel with water — though a friendly duel. But floating is actually a feeling of surrender, of being a true earthling.

At first, I felt disarmed, restricted, even disempowered. But as water held me on its chest, I felt aligned with the elemental energy of water — the energy of flow. The floating bed became my new terra firma — undulating, non-resisting, a state of slow flow and warm glow. I felt safe, secure, happy, and demure.

This disarmament was a virtuous one. Floating on those beds, during acqua-sound healing, was the shortest vacation I ever took. It did not transform me — it transmuted me.

While the ego and duality melted, there came a sense of self-love and self-ownership — that elegant moment of “I am nothing and I am everything.” Of self-love and then unselfing. Just like one must own something to shed it — recognize it, value it, and then surrender it — this is a continuum, it’s awareness.

Those moments in the serene blue water, in the twilight, surrounded by skyscrapers as anonymous witnesses, revealed things I wouldn’t have otherwise seen. Seeing was the only doing — true witnessing.

That’s the thing with water — it allowed me to merge with the universe and then emerge.

And that’s when I truly witnessed the witness in me — the witness bhav. The seeing was the only doing. The skyscrapers, the stars, the ramparts formed an umbrella above me, as if in my tunnel vision, they were all singularly existing for me. Tears welled up in my eyes with this almost Eureka moment.

I heard the dulcet voice of my sound-healing instructor — whom I call a diva from Pleiadians. Her voice, mellifluous like water, and her headgear glistening with pearls — she was an embodiment of earth, water, sky, and wind. A magician, a mystic, one who exists in myths. The sound of bells and singing bowls glided through my cells, awakening them to their own existence.

I looked up at the sky filled with twinkling stars — as if reminding me of the old nursery rhyme “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” The joy of childhood returned. Behind me, I saw the leaves — the beautiful parts that never get noticed — the backs of leaves intertwining with others.

And I realized what we don’t see. My mind’s eye was opening.
Water allowed me to witness distant things closely — and close things distantly.

For deeper insights on conscious living and self-awareness, read Interview with Brahmarishi Mohanji – Part 1.

Explore more about the science of floating meditation and the gentle power of surrendering to flow.