On Friday, I wandered into Barnes and Noble and remembered something I didn’t even know I’d forgotten. The glee. The sensory joy of touching the spines of real books. The smell of fresh print. The pleasure of reading the blurbs on the back covers like they were handwritten love notes just for me.

In an Amazon/instant world, I forgot what a luxury it is to buy a book in an actual bookstore. I’m so used to the Prime click-to-door experience that I’d lost connection with the art of acquisition.

The touch. The smell. Smiling at fellow bookworms. Laughing with the cashier. The hush of the shop. The knowing twinkle of an associate. And the unexpected rush of goodwill when you make a book recommendation to a young reader deciding between two titles you adored at her age. That small connection. That little transmission. Like passing on a key to another world.

Of course, the book I wanted to purchase was 35 percent more than what I would’ve paid on Amazon. I winced and called a friend.

She said, “You’re not paying for the book. You’re paying for the experience. For the story of how you needed space from your kids and the only place that made sense to zip off to Erev Shabbos was Barnes and Noble. That’s worth something.”

And she was right.

I even saw it play out in real time. People walking past those big windows, catching sight of the tower of books by the front entrance, pausing for just a second with that look of should I? That flicker of intrigue. That almost.

And then, they kept walking.

Probably wondering why they didn’t value themselves enough to go in and buy the book. Why something so small and lovely still felt like too much to reach for.

And isn’t that the thing?
It’s rarely about the price.
It’s about what we think we’re worth.
What we give ourselves permission to experience.

Which got me thinking about Emerge.

Last week, some of my students were asked if they’d facilitate this experience for less. Because apparently, it’s “just breathing.” In a pool. With snorkels.

And to their credit, my students quoted numbers more than double mine.

Because they get it. They know what goes into creating something that touches soul and body in one held container. They know what it costs to hold that depth.

There’s nothing “just” or “basic” about Emerge.

It’s not just breathwork. It’s holding a group- make that two groups. Breathing in a simultaneous session. In water and beneath it. And then flipping it. So that's four groups, in one go.

It’s years of training. The science of water memory. The secrets of mikvah. Hydrotherapy. Birth studies. (And birthing a breathwork baby of my own, which ought to come with its own degree.) Tens of hours in float tanks. 

And that’s only what happens in the pool.

The four hours before we ever touch the water are where the roots go down. We start with intentional facilitation designed to drop you fully into your body. There’s conscious group work, systemic constellations, nervous system priming, breath-led inquiry, and a kind of presencing you may never have known was possible. We shape the field before we enter it.

This part alone has the power to shift things that have been stuck for years. Participants have wept in this phase. Unlocked major life lessons. Met parts of themselves they’d been avoiding or didn’t know existed.

That’s why people come back. Even at this price point. Because they remember what it gave them. Because they know the power of a space that is built, not improvised. One where the container is strong enough to hold the real thing. Not just sensation. Transformation.

And after the water?

We don’t just send you on your way dripping and dazed. There is deep, guided integration. We speak what was moved. We give language to the nonverbal. There’s time to digest and embody. Time to feel what wants to land. To ground the mystical into your real life. Because this isn’t about chasing peak experiences. It’s about emerging different and knowing how to keep listening once the echo fades.

So yeah, anyone can breathe in a pool.

No one’s stopping you.

But can they create what we create at Emerge?

That’s the difference.

We don’t do it on demand.

We do it by the book.

The Barnes and Noble kind.

The last time I ran Emerge was two years ago.
This experience doesn’t happen often.

If something in you knows it’s time
Not for the scroll
Not for another “maybe later”
But for the moment where you step fully in
Then come breathe with us.

July 15. Toms River.
This isn’t just breathwork. It’s the whole story.
Let Emerge be the chapter where you actually start living again.