I hope you are well, and that the rain has been falling gently on your roof and moving gracefully over the land you inhabit. It feels like an auspicious beginning to 2023—a new year swept in with invigorating energy, dynamic winds and the great blessing of water. Have you felt a connection with the cleansing, renewing and energizing aspects of these storms? We are, after all, made of the same elemental forces that shape our landscape. Nature presents endless opportunities for attunement, observation and self-reflection.
I have been thinking about this while tending the land here in the Commonweal Garden. There is a seasonal creek that runs through the valley in wet years (it did not run two years ago). Last fall, in prayerful anticipation of the return of running water on the land, I cleared out brush and debris both to allow the water to flow and to create “sit spots” to connect with it. Once the debris was removed and channels made clear, I could imagine the path the water might take. Envisioning the places where it might slow, collect, eddy and then continue on its journey to the sea, I could almost hear the sweet sound of water over stone.
Wish Creek began to flow on New Year’s Eve. On that first day, it was a full-throated torrent flushing out debris from its well-worn bed. What a joyous, raucous return it was. With gratitude I noted that the sit spot, where I’d placed a stool, was well above the flowing creek yet close enough to feel a part of its ecology. In the ensuing weeks of nearly continuous rain, the feel of the creek has varied from day to day, but always it is lovely in its play among mossy wood and shining stones. Fern fronds trail their fingers in the stream, newts move with their mindful deliberateness in and out of the eddying pools, tiny cataracts form and glisten in the light. The water itself takes on beautiful shapes, now rounded and bubbling here, flowing and strong there.
Sitting by the creek and listening to its sweet musical voice, I feel a restorative lift in mood and energy. Scientific literature describes how the sound of moving water has a soothing effect on humans and a capacity to decrease stress and fatigue. As with birdsong, the sounds of water stimulate a healing response by activating our parasympathetic nervous system and quieting the fight or flight response of the sympathetic nervous system. Water sounds lift people out of feelings of sadness and grief and help to quiet the “default mode network” that replays old anxieties, ruminates on concerns and projects fears onto the future. The sound of water can help bring us into the wondrous present. Listening to water coupled with the full sensory experience of sitting near a running stream can move us into a state of wonder and awe.
It is within this experience of communing with nature that transformative, metaphorical insights bubble up. Witnessing the beauty and power of the natural world, we can ask where in our lives we find ourselves in a state of flow. In the field of positive psychology, “flow” is defined as engagement in an activity that yields energized focus, full involvement and enjoyment. Where are we stuck and what would it take to remove the obstructions to flow? What old narratives keep us in a thought loop, an emotional cul-de-sac, a low vibrational state? Water—which eventually finds its way around obstacles that have fallen into a stream—is a fitting metaphor for this inquiry. Sometimes we must remove debris and blockages where the water wants to flow, sometimes we must define a new channel. How do we open the channels for our energy to be in a flow state? How do we create deep pools for energy to collect but not stagnate?
These water metaphors may be particularly useful following the holidays and weeks of hunkering down indoors. Perhaps you feel the weight of old narratives and outmoded self-soothing strategies in the form of rich foods and beverages. Maybe energy is blocked by a sedentary lifestyle. Or maybe a particular storyline is sitting like a sad stone in your heart. What streams might open in body, mind and life if some of those blocks were removed? What might cleansing and detoxifying tea and veggie broth wash away? A regular breath practice, in and out like waves on a shore, can do wonders in opening energy channels. Be like water, and flow around the rock in your streambed. Some of the most graceful water features arise from a stone the water must flow around.
I share these reflections knowing that many had a very different experience with water in these past weeks. For some, stormwaters washed away everything, including life. It is a poignant reminder that this moment is the only one we truly have, and we can live into it as though it is our last. I am awash with gratitude for those who worked, at times around the clock, to ensure our safety during these storms. We are so blessed to be in resilient community together.
With the return of sunshine this week, let yourself be drawn outdoors, into the sparkling verdant wonderland that is Northern California after the rains. Stay in your senses, listening to the sound of the water flowing, seeing the way this water animates the magical beauty of the moss, the lichen, the delicate ferns. You are made of water. Do you see some aspect of yourself in this beauty? What do you need to flow?
Anna O’Malley is a family and community medicine physician. She founded and directs Natura Institute for Ecology and Medicine in the Commonweal Garden.