Float: An experience designed for a few. Felt by all.

Floating Sound bath

L’Eau Hill Archive
Friday, August 8, 2025

This past Friday, I stood barefoot on the balcony at L’Eau Hill, looking down at the water below. Ten guests floated there. Eyes covered, blankets pulled just under their chins, suspended on floats while my sister played her crystal sound bowls under the moon. The sun had already tucked itself behind the trees, and the only thing moving was the ripple of water and the steady rise and fall of their breath.

It was one of her floating sound baths- an experience she’s been hosting here since last summer. And each time she leads one, I find myself stopping. Watching. Feeling. This is what presence looks like. This is what it means to hold space well.

Guests arrive carrying nothing more than a towel, maybe a little uncertain, not quite knowing what to expect, but open. Always open. They step into the water with wobbly knees and curious hearts. They climb onto floats, guided gently by her assistant, who tends to the water with the care of a lifeguard and the reverence of a healer. They pull their eye masks down, their blankets up, and then…let go.

Trusting that they’re safe.
Trusting that they’ll be guided.
Trusting that, for the next 90 minutes, the world can fall away and they’ll be held.
And they are.

There’s a soft ceremony she begins with. A blessing. A cleansing as guests enter the space. Something about it always stays with me. This reminder that sacred things don’t have to be grand to be powerful. The guest count never exceeds ten. You simply can’t pour oil over a hundred foreheads in silence. You can’t carry that many hearts at once with the same precision.

And I think that’s what makes these floating sound baths so special.
The care is deeper.
The design is quieter.
The impact, unmistakable.

At L’Eau Hill, we often host larger celebrations. Weddings, bridal showers, birthdays with guest lists of 20, 40, sometimes a few more. But this was different. This gathering didn’t stretch to hold everyone. It gently folded inward and made room for just enough. Just a handful.

When we first set out to develop Kin & Co., our family-owned house of brands (which L’Eau Hill helped birth), we didn’t know how my sister’s wellness company, True North, would fit. At the time, we couldn’t quite imagine a venue brand making space for a spiritual wellness practice. But now, I can’t imagine it any other way.

Because Kin & Co. has never been about traditional structure. It’s always been about what helps people hold on to what matters. And spiritual care is part of that. Her ceremonial floating sound baths are practices in remembering. In letting go. In realigning.

We’re in a time that pushes for more. More reach, more scale, more visibility. But Friday night reminded me of something else: the quiet power of designing for less. Ten people. Two hands. One unfolding.

She didn’t maximize attendance.
She maximized presence.
And everyone felt it.

What she’s building is a masterclass in care. It’s a return to craftsmanship. To curate moments that linger long after the sound fades. To make room for transformation without spectacle.

If you were here, you would’ve felt it too.
And if you ever need to return to yourself, come float with us.
Not everything needs to be big to change you.

Sometimes it just needs to be true.

—

Inspired by L’Eau is the living archive of L’Eau Hill: part journal, part invitation, part memory in the making. True North is the spiritual wellness sister brand of Kin & Co., offering sound healing and immersive, heart-centered experiences led by Spirituallee. To learn more, visit here.