THE WATER
There is actually a personal story behind my connection to water.
The Gift of „Water“
In June I was at a garden party. I felt particularly sad and unhappy. It was a really heavy day. One of my friends noticed. She came to me and asked me what had happened. I explained my story to her, and she listened with empathy. Then she asked „Can I give you something?“
I nodded.
She took off the ring she was wearing.
„This ring,“ she told me „is from a designer collection. It’s called „The Water“.“
„I see. It has the shape of a water drop.“
„Exactly. Water will help you carry away all the heavy and painful things. Patterns, thoughts, even people you don’t need anymore. Suddenly you will have space for new things to come to you.“
„Another heavy shit,“ I remarked sarcastically, and we started to laugh.
„Yes. And no. We will see. But I feel like you need it.“
I don't know whether she realized how much those words would stay with me, but they felt almost like a message I needed to hear at that exact moment. The ring itself became more than just an object — it became a little symbol of change.
I have kept it ever since. Sometimes I think about that moment and how something as simple as a ring can carry a meaning far beyond itself. Water became, for me, a reminder that letting go is not necessarily an ending. Sometimes it is simply the space we create for something new to arrive.
I kept thinking about what she had said. About what it means to let something go, and why making space for something unknown can feel so frightening.
Into the Unknown
Water carries a strange kind of wisdom. It is constantly changing, yet it never seems to question that movement. It flows from one place to another, disappears beneath the surface, evaporates, returns as rain. It cleanses, renews, and transforms. Nothing about it is permanent, and yet there is nothing wrong with that.
We, on the other hand, often find change difficult. Even when we know that something is no longer right for us, the familiar can feel safer than the unknown. We may stand at the edge of a new chapter for a long time, wondering whether we are ready. Sometimes all we can manage is to dip our toes into the water and quickly pull them back out.
There is something almost funny about that moment. We know the water is only water, and yet our whole body reacts to the shock of something unfamiliar. We need time to adjust. We slowly put our feet in again, then our ankles, our knees. And eventually, if we keep going, the cold becomes bearable. We stop thinking about it and begin to notice that we are floating.
Maybe change asks the same thing from us. Not to be fearless, and not to know exactly what will happen next. Perhaps we only need the courage to put our toes in. To take one small step toward something we cannot yet see clearly. The rest may come naturally once we allow ourselves to enter the water.
The ring is still there, small, silver, shaped like a drop. Quietly reminding me that water always find its way.