I wonder if I am like most people when I think of a stream. I think of moving water and the comforting sound of that moving water. I remember two of our stays in Gatlinburg, Tennessee where streams were close enough to lull us to sleep each night.
Whether conditions are calm or stormy, the stream does flow. The core of its purpose is to flow, and flow is its voice. The stream is confident in allowing this voice to consistently work its magic, and over time fulfill its purpose. While the stream began before my time, and will continue long after my time, I’m thankful to be a benefactor of its magic in the here and now.
The stream does flow, and it understands its place in a larger story. Yes, the stream does flow—and it recognizes all present conditions as part of the unfolding story.
I love the concept, the experience, of flow. When in flow, my voice active, I tumble, break, and turn; and where I can, slow into a pool—an ordained location and time to gather consciousness of the journey and full experience before moving once again.
