Refilling the well: lessons from water about flow, resilience, and renewal this holiday season

As we come to the end of the year, many of us are looking for ways to replenish our energy, connect with loved ones, and find joy in the simple things in life. Water has always been a source of healing, connection, fun and meaning. How can we draw on the power of water as we take a break this summer?

Approaching the holiday season, many Australians are rummaging through the bottom drawer for rumpled bathers and colourful towels. Summer, for many of us is about surf and sand, rivers and lakes, dams and swimming pools.

If you live in a colder part of the world, water is probably still central to your holiday season plans, whether it’s making snow angels, drinking steaming cups of tea, or listening to the rain on the roof.

Why are we so drawn to water?

Is it because water is full of emotions? Constantly changing—from solid, liquid, to gas, from gentle to raging— water can be easily drawn on as a metaphor for feelings and life challenges.

Is it because our need for water is something that connects every living thing so it has become a symbol of interconnectedness, growth, and renewal?

Is it because water is a source of beauty and poetry?

There are so many reasons we might link water with our wellbeing and sense of connection to the world. Perhaps, most fundamentally, we are 75% water ourselves. Our bodies are linked to all other bodies of water in the world, through the tidal pull of the moon, through our need to regenerate through water.

The idea that we are made of water becomes tangible when we breathe on a cold morning—our breath full of moisture. Or when we sweat in the heat.

When we are dehydrated, our mental health can be impacted. In this sense, part of our fragility comes from our association with water.

Let’s explore what water means for us as humans in a bit more depth.

Water as emotion

We often use water metaphors to describe emotions.

Roaring oceans, raging rivers, rips that drag us under, storms, soaring, pounding surf, reflect our intense or powerful emotions.

Calm forest pools, trickling water features, misty mornings, represent peace, calm and tranquillity. We may use a soundtrack of the ocean or rain to lull ourselves to sleep.

Rainy days are often described as miserable. Dark clouds are often used to describe depression or sadness. When we can’t get our thoughts together, we describe our brains as being foggy. When we feel stuck or overwhelmed, we may describe ourselves as stagnating, wading through mud, or drowning.

‘Cold as ice’ describes someone who lacks empathy.

Water is capable of great patience and calm, resulting in canyons and moving mountains, carving our rivers in rock, forming stalactites and stalagmites over millions of years. In this sense, we may see water as having endurance and resilience, with the ability to wear away resistance over time and create change.

In a very physical sense, when we are feeling emotional, tears appear—of sadness, laughter, anger or pain.

We also talk about feelings as coming in waves, ebbing and flowing.

We can use metaphors around water to describe our emotional states as water is universal. No matter your culture or geographical location, we all have a relationship with water. You might try exploring this idea yourself, or work with this idea with clients or students, as a creative activity in a classroom, or as a personal reflective activity.

You could ask (yourself or others):

• If you were to describe what kind of body of water you are right now, what would it be (a gathering storm, a gentle river, in drought, frozen or steaming, a rip in the ocean, a dripping tap)?
• What would you like to be (a sprinkler, a pond full of water lilies, a white-water river, a glacier, a small stream)?
• Would being around water help you create a sense of wellbeing?
• How could you spend some around water this holiday season

Water as healing

While spending time in green spaces has been shown to improve mental health and wellbeing, there is more and more research into the impact of blue spaces on wellness.

As Elle Hunt notes in her article in The Guardian titled, Blue spaces: why time spent near water is the secret of happiness, comparing green spaces and blue spaces,

‘The benefits of “blue space”—the sea and coastline, but also rivers, lakes, canals, waterfalls, even fountains—are less well publicised, yet the science has been consistent for at least a decade: being by water is good for body and mind.’

Referring to research by White, she notes,

‘… time in and around aquatic environments has consistently been shown to lead to significantly higher benefits, in inducing positive mood and reducing negative mood and stress, than green space does.’

There is an increasing body of research in this space, which is both fascinating and hopeful.

All over the world, mineralised springs have always been seen as places of healing. From Egypt’s Bahariya Oasis to Pamukkale in Türkiye (a UNESCO World Heritage Site—Cleopatra and Mark Antony were reported to have stayed here), people have been using hot springs for healing for millennia. We also use water for healing in simple ways like putting an ice pack on a sprained ankle, ice baths after sport, or steaming saunas that relax tight muscles and release toxins.

The sound of water has also long been associated with contributing to a calming, meditative state of mind. For example we listen to the sound of the ocean to help us sleep, and the gentle patter of rain is often described as peaceful and cosy.

On the flip side, lack of water, in the form of dehydration, has been linked to lack of energy, increased irritability, headaches, low mood, anxiety and it can even impact on brain structure and function in people with long term dehydration.

In an article in The Conversation, titled, Water really can provide some relief from anxiety and help us see the glass half full, they summarise research in the field of nutritional psychology, noting:

‘Overall, negative emotions such as anger, hostility, confusion and tension as well as fatigue were found to increase with dehydration.’

Dehydration has also been linked to lower serotonin uptake, increased cortisol levels, which can both contribute to increased anxiety. Even mild dehydration (1–2%) can impair concentration, memory, and mood. It has also been linked to poorer sleep.

The good news is that the research also finds that increasing water intake, no mater how much you normally drink can increase a sense of wellbeing.

Of course, for millions of people around the world, poor water quality can be a source of diseases such as cholera, diarrhoea, dysentery, hepatitis A, typhoid and polio.

According to the World Health Organization,

• In 2021, over 2 billion people lived in water-stressed countries, which is expected to be exacerbated in some regions as result of climate change and population growth (1).
• In 2022, globally, at least 1.7 billion people used a drinking water source contaminated with faeces.

With so many people in the world not having access to good quality drinking water, water is also a social justice issue

Water as connection

Not only are our bodies connected to all the other bodies of water in the world via tidal forces. Rivers, oceans, lakes, and other bodies of water are connectors between communities and geographical locations. In fact, for thousands of years, our maps used to be based on waterways rather than land routes.

In Robert MacFarlane’s wonderful book, The Old Ways, he invites us to re-imagine the history of Europe…

‘…blank out the land interiors of these countries—consider them featureless. As you might previously have considered the sea. Instead, populate the western and northern waters with paths and tracks, a travel system that joins port to port, island to island, headland to headland, river mouth, to river mouth. The sea has become the land…’

He says that there are several consequences of this—we no longer have land borders or nation states, as our communities are connected via water rather than land. He also notes that these ‘Sea roads are dissolving paths whose passage leaves no trace beyond a wake…’ even if the road has been a sea route for 5000 years, which means they are ephemeral, like a ghost network connecting the world.

Nowhere is our socio-cultural dependence on water more evident than in Egypt. All culture and community is along the Nile, as it has been for thousands of year. According to National Geographic, the entire Nile River basin—made up of interconnected streams, lakes and rivers—threads its way through 11 African countries. Being the last country on the river, Egyptians are dependent on good relationships with all of these countries for water, food, and continued existence.

The Social Life of Water, edited by John Richard Wagner, describes how every community organises itself in relation to water. Humans need a stable source of water for drinking, growing, hygiene, social gatherings, food, supporting livestock, fishing. From ancient times, water has been central in our communities. In contemporary society, water has become a commodity that is becoming more scarce in many parts of the world. In others, they risk being overwhelmed by rising waters, unseasonal storms, and wild weather resulting from climate change.

Today we connect through water, by gathering near bodies of water like beaches, lakes, rivers, snow, and pools.

Immersing ourselves in water can also generate a sense of connection to the natural world.  When we are submerged, our whole body is being held by the water – it lifts us up, surrounds us, skin on skin. This can feel nurturing and deeply connecting. The dampening of sound under water can create a sense of womblike peace and serenity.

Water as spirit

So many religions and spiritual systems represent water as sacred.

For example. First Nations Australians have always treasured, sacred for a respected the value of water:

‘Water is core to life for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. Protecting and managing water is a custodial and intergenerational responsibility. If the cultural and spiritual values of water are sustained by providing water that is sufficient in both quantity and quality, then many other components of Indigenous life will be healthy.

‘Cultural and spiritual values may relate to a range of uses and issues, including spiritual relationships, language, song lines, stories, sacred places, customary use, the plants and animals associated with water, drinking water, and recreational or commercial activities.’

At the Indigenous Climate Hub, they say:

‘Water is more than a chemical compound of hydrogen and oxygen; it is the essence of life itself. Indigenous cultures worldwide, especially those residing along the interior rivers, bays, lakes and coastal regions, have long recognized water as a living entity imbued with spirit, agency, and autonomy. This understanding transcends metaphor—it is rooted in an intimate observation of nature and a profound respect for water’s role as the life-giver and decision-maker for all beings on Mother Earth.’

The wonderful First Nations poet and biologist, Robin Wall Kimmerer, describes how, for First Nations peoples of North America, including her own Citizen Potawatomi Nation, many words that are nouns (or things) in English, are actually verbs (or actions) in her native language, especially water. In her deeply poetic and soulful book, Braiding Sweetgrass, she says,

‘A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa—to be a bay—releases the water from bondage and lets it live. “To be a bay” holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise—become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive.

‘Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms. This is the language I hear in the woods; this is the language that lets us speak of what wells up all around us.[…] This is the grammar of animacy.’

Taoism often uses the image of water to describe the passing of time and the ephemeral nature of reality. As Lau Tzu describes:

‘Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong.’

Water is a potent symbol in Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Buddhism also.

Thinking about your spiritual tradition, what does water mean?

Water as a source of mystery and awe

Oceans are the last unmapped environments. As of June 2025, 27.3% of the global seafloor had been mapped. As such, oceans are liminal, unknowable spaces.

They are mysterious, full of alien entities, light-generating sci fi creatures that feel like dream creatures. This can generate a sense of fear, wonder, curiosity, and awe.

The oceans also cover around 70% of the earth, which means we actually know very little about our planet, despite our sense that as humans that we are knowledgeable, informed, scientific, beings.

Looking out over the ocean from high places or a plane can induce a sense of awe. Awe is an emotion that encourages us to see our smallness and fragility, which can, in turn, create a sense of perspective, humility and gratitude. Experiences of awe have been shown to increase our wellbeing in a range of ways.

Seek out some awe during the holiday season and notice how your mood changes.

How to draw on water’s nuanced and powerful qualities this holiday season

This holiday season, maybe carve out some time to spend in your favourite manifestation of water. Sit under a sprinkler on a hot day, go for a paddle in a canoe, on a lilo, a tube, or just in floaties. Sit on a river bank and go fishing, have a gelato, a water gun fight, dig your toes in the sand and let the water tickle your toes. Dive into the shocking cold of a swimming pool, drink a glass of water, play marco polo with the kids. Or if you are in the northern hemisphere, build a snowman, take a hot bath, or jump in some puddles.

Here are a few other ideas for reconnecting with water:

• Go snorkelling, scuba diving, in a glass bottom boat or to an aquarium to be awed by the creatures that live beneath the ocean.
• Water can have the same calming effect as staring at fire. Find a mesmerising body of water—maybe a small waterfall or trickling pond, or a water feature in a garden—and take some time to sit and absorb the sound of the water, the animals that depend on it, and your own breath gently coming and going.
• Go to a mineral springs and soak in their healing waters.
• Take a soak in a hot tub or have a hot shower or sauna.
• Get a fishtank. Research has shown that being around these small aquatic spaces have had positive impacts on people in aged care facilities.
• Hike to a high point at dawn or dusk and marvel at the vastness and beauty of the ocean.
• Watch birds playing in a birdbath—their joy and irreverence.
• Get invigorated! Take a plunge in the ocean, a river, or lake.

How will you enjoy water this holiday season?

By Sue King-Smith