a few months ago, we decided to dig a spring — about 10 feet into the ground.
it’s just a few meters from the house. we shaped a water pump so we could bring it straight here. i thought, okay, great — we’ll have fresh water for the house. nothing special.
but since then, i’ve been bathing in it every single day.
and, you know, at first, i wasn’t impressed. it’s hard water, so my skin turned a little darker. and the smell isn't attractive either. someohow, i kinda miss the chlorinated soft city water. i even complained a little.
but this isn’t just water.
it’s alive. it’s ancient. it’s been moving, quietly, beneath the earth for who knows how long — through stone, soil, and root, carrying minerals, life force, and the memory of everything it has touched. when it finally reaches me, it feels like it knows exactly what to take and what to give.
every time i bathe in it, it clears more than dirt. it lifts stress, stagnant energy, old emotions i didn’t even realize i was still carrying. it’s a daily energetic reset, like the earth itself is reshaping me, reminding me where i belong.
because it comes straight from the ground, it roots me. it keeps me tethered to the land in a way nothing else does. i feel the pulse of the earth through it — a quiet, steady rhythm older than me, older than my home, older than memory.
the minerals feed my body, yes, but they also feed my spirit. my mind slows. the chatter fades. sometimes it turns into stillness. sometimes it feels like the water hums with a deep intelligence, an energy older than anything i can name.
and this water listens.
some days i bathe without a thought and still feel lighter. other days i step in with a prayer, an intention, or something i want to release, and it feels like the water holds it — cradles it — and gives something back, as if it’s been waiting for me.
sometimes the release comes as a deep sigh. sometimes as tears. sometimes just that quiet, light feeling that stays with me the rest of the day.
so yes, my skin changed.
but so did my spirit.
and between the two, i know which one matters more.
every day i bathe here, i feel lucky — like i’m part of something ancient that is still flowing, still alive, still choosing to meet me here, carrying the memory of the earth, carrying the life force of everything it has touched.