Lying in the bathtub yesterday, I let everything go. Muscles stopped fighting, body just dissolved into the water — no edges left between me and it. Warmth everywhere, thoughts quieted down until it wasn’t me thinking anymore. It felt like the universe breathed through me, or my Spirit did, or whatever name you give that vast quiet presence.

When I finally stepped out, dripping and alive, something shifted again. I wasn’t tired or spaced out — I was locked in, focused, buzzing with clean energy like a superhuman version of myself. Felt exactly like pulling into a pitstop mid-race: tires swapped, tank full, then flooring it back onto the track. Whatever got drained got refueled, hard.

That contrast stuck with me. We’re born wet — newborns clock in around 75% water. But rewind further: early fetus stages hit 80-90% water, floating in amniotic fluid like pure liquid potential. Life dries us out from there. By one year old, down to 65%. Adults hover 55-60%, elderly dip lower. We’re literally evaporating from that original drenched state.

Science tracks it clean: more fat, less muscle, age pulls the percentage down. Spiritually? Creation stories open with water — Spirit over the deep in Genesis, cosmic oceans birthing everything else. The womb mirrors that primordial fluid: enclosed, protected, divine formation in total immersion. Baptism, mikveh, river plunges — they’re all returns to origin, full-body surrender to melt separation and touch the source again.

Float tanks chase the same hit on purpose — senses cut, salt water holding you, people report boundary loss, unity flashes, divine encounters just like my tub moment. No gear required; just relax and let the water carry you completely. It’s recapitulating the womb, the flood, the rebirth ritual humans keep doing because water erases ego edges like nothing else.

To connect with the universe you have to sync into a flow that cannot be controlled by anyone except nature, that’s when it ticks. Maybe that’s why it worked so clean. We’re still mostly water, still carrying that early closeness to whatever created it. Re-immersion isn’t escape — it’s recalibration. Pitstop to remember, refuel, then race again sharper.

Lying in the bathtub yesterday, I let everything go. Muscles stopped fighting, body just dissolved into the water — no edges left between me and it. Warmth everywhere, thoughts quieted down until it wasn’t me thinking anymore. It felt like the universe breathed through me, or my Spirit did, or whatever name you give that vast quiet presence.

When I finally stepped out, dripping and alive, something shifted again. I wasn’t tired or spaced out — I was locked in, focused, buzzing with clean energy like a superhuman version of myself. Felt exactly like pulling into a pitstop mid-race: tires swapped, tank full, then flooring it back onto the track. Whatever got drained got refueled, hard.

That contrast stuck with me. We’re born wet — newborns clock in around 75% water. But rewind further: early fetus stages hit 80-90% water, floating in amniotic fluid like pure liquid potential. Life dries us out from there. By one year old, down to 65%. Adults hover 55-60%, elderly dip lower. We’re literally evaporating from that original drenched state.

Science tracks it clean: more fat, less muscle, age pulls the percentage down. Spiritually? Creation stories open with water — Spirit over the deep in Genesis, cosmic oceans birthing everything else. The womb mirrors that primordial fluid: enclosed, protected, divine formation in total immersion. Baptism, mikveh, river plunges — they’re all returns to origin, full-body surrender to melt separation and touch the source again.

Float tanks chase the same hit on purpose — senses cut, salt water holding you, people report boundary loss, unity flashes, divine encounters just like my tub moment. No gear required; just relax and let the water carry you completely. It’s recapitulating the womb, the flood, the rebirth ritual humans keep doing because water erases ego edges like nothing else.

To connect with the universe you have to sync into a flow that cannot be controlled by anyone except nature, that’s when it ticks. Maybe that’s why it worked so clean. We’re still mostly water, still carrying that early closeness to whatever created it. Re-immersion isn’t escape — it’s recalibration. Pitstop to remember, refuel, then race again sharper.