Built to Float

Revelations in Buoyancy

When I was two years old, I nearly drowned in a swimming pool during a large family gathering in Colorado. I had only one floaty on my arm but was determined to join my older brother—just four at the time—who was already splashing confidently in the shallow end with both “swimmies” on.

I’ve always had a tendency to leap before looking. Even as a toddler, I jumped fearlessly into the pool. Sometimes, being fearless simply means not yet understanding the consequences. In this case, the consequence was nearly fatal. Not knowing how to swim, I sank straight to the bottom. I remember watching my one floaty-clad arm rise above me as I drifted downward, eventually coming to rest on the pool floor.

No one had seen me jump in.

I looked up through the water and saw faint, moving shapes—my aunts and uncles laughing and mingling poolside, unaware that a small figure was seated quietly beneath the surface. After a little while, everything began to dim.

The next thing I remember was waking up on one of those classic 1970s vinyl strap pool chairs, coughing and vomiting up water. My dad had leapt in to save me after my 11-year-old aunt noticed my tiny body sitting on the bottom of the pool.

My mom, a former lifeguard and water-lover herself, made it her mission to instill in us a love for swimming. A mission that I am deeply grateful for. She taught me the meaning of the word buoyant.

“Don’t worry, Abigail. Your body is buoyant—you were built to float. You can trust that.”

Every summer of my childhood, my older brother and I were enrolled in swimming lessons. As soon as we were old enough we would walk the 1.5 miles to the town pool ourselves, a journey that taught me not just independence, but how to face fear head-on. As it turns out, my love for water has always outweighed my fear of it.

My Teacher: The Ocean

Fast forward to now—after over a decade of living in Hawaiʻi, I’m still learning from the water. I’ve had the privilege to learn to surf in the most beautiful ocean one could imagine. One of my most favorite post-surf rituals is to paddle to a quiet part of the sea near the channel. Treading water, I take my leash from my ankle, flip my board over, and carefully wrap the leash around the fin. When it’s tight and snug, I flip the board back and rest my feet on the board body stretched out—heels ontop, arms wide, head held.

I always think of it as forming the letter H—my board and arms spread wide as the vertical lines, my body the bridge. In this moment, my Sesame Street trained brain, says “H is for Hawaiʻi” and I breathe in deep appreciation for the beauty and abundance of this divine place. I take a deep breathe in and my body rises. The sky is the only thing in view. I tilt my head back, ears submerged, and listen to the sand crackling in the current. I fill my lungs with air as I feel the water hold me, gently pushing me upward, reminding me: I am buoyant.

This sensation has become a powerful metaphor in my life. Surrendering to buoyancy—trusting that the water will hold me—is a lesson I return to often. Life is a fluid experience and we are designed to float. The trick is to soften, breathe, and allow the water—life—to lift us up.

Eureka!

Naturally, this brings me to Archimedes, the ancient Greek mathematician and inventor credited with discovering the principle of buoyancy. According to legend, he realized this while stepping into a full bathtub, noticing how the water level rose. Overcome with excitement, he ran through the streets shouting, “Eureka!”—Greek for “I’ve found it!”

The Archimedes Principle states that any object submerged in a fluid, experiences an upward force equal to the weight of the fluid it displaces. That principle applies not just to physics, but, perhaps metaphorically, to our own emotional and spiritual surrender. The more we let go, the more we rise.

So I leave you with this:

• Any lightbulb moments pop up for you today?

• What Eureka moment might you had today?

• Where might you surrender, soften, and allow yourself to rise?

Let me know in the comments how this resonates—or how you might explore buoyancy in your own life.

Thank you for being here.

With love,

Abi Rose

I wrote the below poem 3 years ago when surfing and poetry first collided in my life

My Teacher : The Ocean 

It took me seven years 
to find what’s always here 
It took me seven years 
To put away my fears 

A privilege it is, just to heal. 
Through movements and all of the feels 
But, It took me seven years. 

Empowered, now…as it appears 
Finding the lessons from the earth 
Uncovered the courage to Surf 

To be held by 
Enveloped in 
Wrapped up with 
The most soothing blanket 

To be taught by 
Humbled in 
Challenged with 
This unmeasurable power 

Always near 
Always here 
Freed from fear, 
You are now 
so dear 

My teacher 
The Ocean

Buoyancy : Built to Float - Guided Meditation