Kirill Rassomakhin: Sofia, let’s begin with the origin of your journey. How did you meet David (David Sawyer, Intergative Aquatic Therapy)? And who is he in the context of your work?

Sophia Michalopoulou: It’s a bit of a story. I came to water not casually, but professionally—I felt called to train in supporting families in water. My journey started with Watsu, not because I particularly sought it, but because I had to learn it before I could begin Wata (Water Dance). From the very beginning, my desire was to guide people underwater. That’s been a feeling with me all my life. There’s something deeply potent about the underwater space—like it holds more than we consciously know.

My teacher at the time, Arjana Brunschwiler—the creator of Wata—was the first to witness what water unlocked in me. During my very first week of Watsu training, I touched something within myself I hadn’t accessed before. It wasn’t just a technique I was learning; it was a memory—raw, cellular, unexpected. I’d done years of therapy, Family Constellation work, inner healing—but this was different. This was a depth I hadn’t reached.

Arjana saw it and simply said: “I think you need to talk to David.”

It took months for me to fully understand what I had encountered—what would later be named as Vanishing Twin Syndrome. I had never even heard of it before. But I did reach out to David, who turned out to be the founder of Integrative Aquatic Therapy (IAT). His own lineage comes from Ray Castellino, who worked with pre- and perinatal psychology on land.

David took all of that and brought it into water—into Harbin Hot Springs in the States. That’s where he pioneered a process-based, not technique-based, approach. His work was about listening to the memory the body holds—deep, ancient, sometimes pre-verbal memory.

Kirill: And that completely changed your path?

Sophia: Oh, absolutely. The ten years I spent working with David were transformative. What stayed with me the most was the clarity with which he held space. It wasn’t about technical training. It was about holding stories—our birth stories—with presence and precision.

Many people came expecting instruction. What they found instead was depth. What David gave me, personally, was language—a way to articulate my own process. That clarity gave the work substance. I ended up writing my thesis on Vanishing Twin Syndrome, which eventually became a ten-episode podcast.

Because here's the truth: trauma, especially pre- and perinatal trauma, is rarely witnessed. Giving words to those silent places—bringing the unseen into light—is a kind of witnessing. And witnessing is healing.

Kirill: It sounds like water wasn't just a setting—it became a presence in your story. How did your own practice evolve from that foundation?

Sophia: Beautifully said—yes, water became more than an environment; it became a collaborator. Over time, in my own practice, I began to realize that water itself was part of the work’s foundation. It wasn’t just the place where healing happened—it was what made healing possible. That’s how Aquagenesis began to emerge.

Even when seasoned aquatic therapists come to me wanting to train in Aquagenesis, I always return them to the water first. Because before we share a method, we must speak the same language—the language of water. And I call that language the water blueprint.

Kirill: The water blueprint? That’s a powerful image.

Sophia: Yes, it is a kind of blueprint. Not just of our behaviors, but of our capacities as human beings. Water is evolution. It shapes how we are born, how we relate, how we remember.

David gave me a framework. But water became my teacher. Thousands of hours submerged in memory—literally and metaphorically—taught me to trust what emerged. And what I began to notice is that patterns repeat. Especially in pre- and perinatal processes in water, you start to see: it’s not just you. We all carry echoes.

So my work started growing from the inside out. The more time I spent in the water, the more I began to see—this is how babies experience birth. This is what they feel. And that awareness pushed me to share, to educate. Because presence, awareness, preparation—these are the foundations of Aquagenesis for future families.

Kirill: And that naturally led into your doula work?

Sophia: Exactly. It added another dimension. When I support someone preparing for conception or birth, yes, we revisit their own birth story. But the focus subtly shifts—it’s not always about going deep into trauma. Sometimes it’s about holding space for creation.

Being a water doula isn’t just a poetic title—it brings very specific qualities. A deep understanding of how birth unfolds, not as a technique, but as a mystery you accompany. And in the water, the boundaries of that experience become even more profound.

Kirill: You’re describing something that goes far beyond bodywork.

Sophia: It’s not technique—it’s trusting life to unfold. It’s holding the thread through the darkest hour of labor, through trauma, through death, through rebirth. And this work isn’t only about babies—it’s about birthing new paradigms, new behaviors, without bypassing what’s come before.

I often ask: in whose interest are we doing this work? That’s the ethical root of Aquagenesis. It can’t be “Sofia’s method” or “the Aquagenesis method.” It has to be in service of those being born—so they can remember who they are and why they came.

Kirill: You’ve mentioned language a few times—not just spoken words, but how we make meaning. Can you say more about the verbal component of your work?

Sophia: Absolutely. One of the most powerful things David brought into aquatic therapy was verbal integration—before, during, and after the session. It was a departure from the “blissed-out” closure that so often happened in Harbin Hot Springs, where people would float away feeling euphoric but disconnected from the real work.

Instead, David taught us to use words to keep people present in their bodies. To help them name what was surfacing. And this language—this act of naming—became a thread for real behavioral change. It anchored the experience in the now.

That’s where psychotherapy met water. It required knowing when to speak, how to speak, the tone of the voice, the kind of messages an embryo might want to hear. What did you need to hear to feel welcome in this life? That’s the language we explore. A language of repair. A language of welcome.

Kirill: That’s incredibly tender. And it sounds like that continues even after the session?

Sophia: Yes. In fact, I’d say the most powerful part of the session often happens after the session ends. The nervous system, the fascia, the brain—all are in a malleable state. That’s why I often suggest: have someone pick you up, go home gently, give yourself time.

It’s in that window that neuroplasticity blooms. So what we say, how we speak, how we hold space for ourselves—it matters immensely. That’s when the new patterns begin to settle.

Kirill: I know you’ve developed something called the “warm pool protocol.” What does a session actually look like in that setting?

Sophia: Ah, the womb pool—yes. At first, honestly, it felt like a compromise. A Jacuzzi? Really? But it quickly became the heart of Aquagenesis. Because the container—the size, the walls—it all began to echo something deeply familiar. The amnion, our first home. Our birthright to a unique, sacred space.

In our modern birth stories, that bubble often pops far too early. We’re born exposed, overwhelmed. The womb pool reverses that: it invites you back into safe space, into timeless time.

Everything slows. The session includes preparation before and integration after. And crucially, we embody the membrane—the border between yes and no. For many clients, being asked, “Do you want me to join you in the pool?” is the first time someone has respected their no. That alone can be deeply healing.

Kirill: It reframes the whole idea of what a Jacuzzi even is.

Sophia: Exactly. It’s not luxury—it’s medicine. Warm water (just 35°C) softens the body, opens something primal. And it’s not about technique. It’s about: What am I bringing into the water with me? How have I done my own work? Because how I show up—how I hold myself—is what shapes the experience.

That’s why I say Aquagenesis isn’t a weekend workshop. It’s a process you join—or not. There are five current training modules, each unfolding in its own rhythm. But more than training, it’s a deep remembering.

Kirill: You often speak about water as a teacher. But the way you describe it now—it feels almost like water is a kind of midwife, a force that helps birth something more than just life.

Sophia: That’s exactly it. Water is a midwife. A mediator. A peace-bringer.

You see, over time, something in my way of speaking changed. I noticed I could say uncomfortable things with gentleness. That gentleness wasn’t weakness—it was water. Water gets to the point, but it does so kindly. It speaks transparently. That became part of the water blueprint I now teach.

And it's not just metaphor. Water makes visible what land can hide. Movement, reaction, contraction—it all unfolds differently in water. Clients reveal themselves. The layers of perception—of memory—surface in ways you can’t access on land. I’ve come to see that even the embryo is aware of these layers.

Kirill: So in a way, your work speaks not just to individuals, but to our collective human experience?

Sophia: Exactly. Because these aren't isolated traumas. These are blueprints embedded in us—through family, neighborhood, culture, even the Earth itself. And water weaves them all together. It brings connection where once there was fragmentation.

That’s why I say: water isn’t just a substance—it’s a consciousness. It invites us to become more fully alive. And to do that, we must reclaim our right to softness, our right to pleasure.

Kirill: Let’s talk about fear. A lot of people—especially in places like Greece or Russia—are afraid of water. They can’t swim. Can Aquagenesis work for them?

Sophia: Absolutely. I’ve worked with many people who were terrified of water. And almost always, it’s not about the water—it’s about what they weren’t given as children. Access. Play. Safety.

We’re taught to swim like athletes—or not at all. But not everyone wants to be a swimmer. That’s why in Aquagenesis, we say: Pleasure is a birthright.

You don’t need to dunk your head or master a stroke. You can sit in warm water and rediscover joy. Sensuality. Trust. Over time, when people are allowed to feel safe, they float. The body knows.

And as that happens, the water becomes not something to fear—but a mirror. A healer. A mother.

Kirill: It sounds like this relationship with water has become your way of life.

Sophia: It has. I live it. I work with the sea in Corfu, with marine conservation. Because it's all the same water—the water we’re born from, the water we bathe in, the water we pollute or protect.

And just as I have a duty of care during birth, I feel I have a duty of care for the planet’s water too. Because water is continuum—the thread of life. It holds us together from conception through to death. And now, I’m exploring how to bring that awareness onto land. Not just in sessions—but in how we speak, act, relate.

Because in the end, Aquagenesis isn’t about therapy. It’s about remembering who we are. Through water. For life.