Dead and Alive

Ah, the Dead Sea.

Who can resist the healing waters? The minerals? The mud?

Called Yam HaMawet in Hebrew, the Dead Sea is 1,388 feet below sea level, Earth’s lowest point on land.   It is also one of the deepest hypersaline lakes in the world with 33.7% salinity.  It is this salinity that makes it impossible for aquatic animals and plants to survive.  By contrast, it is a major center for health research surrounding the mineral content of the water, the low pollen and allergens in the atmosphere, the reduced ultraviolet rays in the dessert area, and the higher atmospheric pressure at such a low level.  It is interesting to note the area is known as one of the world’s first health resorts, dating back to the time of Herod the Great.  Even now it continues to supply a wide variety of health and beauty products, balms, herbal sachets and a multitude of miracle cures based on the chemistry found in these waters.

Over 1.2 million foreign tourists visit the Dead Sea each year.  In fact, “floating” in the Dead Sea is advertised as one of the top 10 things to do in Israel.  What interested me the most is the discovery that floating is not an option, it’s a command of nature that will be followed!

There’s nothing to compare with this experience.  Upon entering the water, I was immediately taken with the thick, oily feel to the water and the slight sulfuric odor, but as the water reached waist level I was distracted by how difficult it became to maintain my stance.  It was as if the water was pushing my legs out from under me.  It actually took a concentrated effort to remain standing.  When I finally gave in to the pressure of the sea and allowed myself to be swept off my feet (wouldn’t you know it would be the Dead Sea and not a man that finally did it), I discovered the true essence of floating.

You see, anything with a higher density than water will sink in water.  The human body is, by weight, roughly two-thirds water, and therefore a density quite similar to that of water.  The factor that affects the natural ability to float is body composition: greater muscle density or a low ratio of fat to muscle fiber will produce a greater tendency to sink.  Regardless, the water content of the human body creates a pull toward floating above sinking.  This is why the standard floating experience involves consciously relaxing, breathing deep, stretching out your body and engaging your core muscles.  To compensate for the dynamics of body composition, you need to give up a bit of control and stop fighting physics.  This is simply not the case in the Dead Sea.  The salt content of the water increases the density of the sea.  When the human body is submerged in the water it creates a buoyancy effect or a “forced float.”

I submitted to the will of the saline.  As I found myself relaxing because I was floating (and not relaxing to be able to float), I was struck by the stillness in the air and the remote beauty of the desert surroundings.  The monochromatic nature of the mountains and dunes in contrast to the blue of the sea was quite breathtaking.

I thought about the path we’d taken to the sea.  It took us along the mountains through what would have been the Biblical cities of Admah, Zeboim and Zoar, the cities in the plain, but also along the southeastern shore, an area believed to be the location of Sodom and Gomorra, the cities destroyed in the time of Abraham. In many ways it is easy to see the attraction for desert living that distracted Abraham from following God’s original direction and caused him to linger as a desert nomad.

Edward Abbey once wrote “The desert holds a perfect and natural balance between lifelessness and living vibrancy.”  As I float and breathe in the crisp air, feel the quiet of the land and the vastness of the canyons, cliffs and desert surrounding me, I experience the immensity of the world around me in contrast to the smallness of me.  I am just a speck of sand, and yet perhaps in the greater purpose I join with others to texture the landscape as a moving line of beauty, a ripple of life on barren hills.

I see my friend lounging near the waters edge.  In a world where individuals get lost in the crowds and responsibilities, where people don’t even know their neighbors and struggle to make  friends…in a desert of loneliness and loss, we somehow connected.  We’re like the sea.  There’s nothing to explain or sustain us, no logical reason we should have bonded, and yet it’s as if all of the elements of impossibilities conjoined to give us buoyancy, to help us float when we should be sinking.

Today I floated in the Dead Sea…and I feel alive.