STREAMS – fluid transformation

Mountains are steadfast but the mountain streams
go by, go by,
and yesterdays are like the rushing streams,
they fly, they fly,
and the great heroes, famous for a day,
they die, they die.

Hwang Chin-i
translated by Peter H. Lee

 

As I stepped outside, a heavy drop fell onto my head.  Before I could even lift my fingers to touch my hair, I felt another drop, and then another.  No wonder there were so many birds anticipating the seeds that I carried in my hand – the drops were a sign that it would soon rain.   Trusting the patterns of rainfall from the last few days, I continued down the front steps, scattered the seeds and headed toward a nearby redwood grove for a morning walk.

Slowly, as I neared the grove, the sound of the bird chatter behind me was being replaced by the sound of rushing water.  Just within the last week, the neighborhood streams had once again resumed their own chatter in their journey from the mountain top to the ocean.   With a large amount of rain, the water flows freely down the slopes, sometimes within existing streambeds, yet often creating new brooks and rivulets in the flow toward the larger stream in the redwood grove.

With a recent shift from one calendar year to another, I found myself appreciating the journey of the water: rising up from moisture from the earth to the clouds, becoming droplets that release again toward the earth that feed the waterways and nourish the trees and plants, who in turn nourish other beings, purify the air, and then eventual merge with the vastness of the seas.   Water does not cling to form. Even as dewdrops, there is an inherent force within water that continually unfolds and releases into identifiable shapes along the journey.

Water keeps moving forward – ceaselessly being transformed into different forms, while simultaneously transforming whatever it touches, e.g., shifting terrains, carving valleys and eroding rocks into sand pebbles.   It is a generous reminder of the fluidity and ever-changing nature of life.  Through the twists and turns and the smooth and turbulent parts of the journey, the essence of water remains ever-free.

I followed the stream through the rest of my walk, crossing over it midway and returning home just as the rain drops began to form downward flowing streams of water.  There was a pulse of gratitude running through my veins for having water as my walking companion.  Through that silent conversation, I felt a sense of prayerfulness held within the transition to a new calendar.   It offered the reminder that each sunset is a sacred end and beginning of another day, as is each breath, each step, each form.   The journey continues with form ever releasing into formless.  Thank you for journeying with me.

Practice
This short practice invites awareness of water.

Prepare – 

• Standing:
  • Stand on one foot, lift the other foot and move your ankle around.  Shift sides.
    • If comfortable, do this without shoes.
  • With both feet on the floor, curl your toes under.  Then, lift them up and spread your toes wide apart.
    • Repeat three times
  • Bend your knees with hips back far enough so you can see your toes.
    • Pause here for three breaths. 

Practice – 

• Imagine you are outside after a big rain.  The sun is shining and the air is warm.  There are puddles of water all around you.
• Walk around the perimeter of these imaginary puddles.  See the ground as wet, but firm.
  • Notice the rhythm and quality of your step.
  • There is no right or wrong.  Just noticing your feet and how they are connecting to the surface beneath you.
  • Continue, and notice how the rest of your body feels and responds as you do this.  Perhaps notice any sensations or feelings.
• Approach one of the imaginary puddles.  Step one foot in and then the other.  The water is ankle deep, not deeper.
  • Begin to walk around in the puddle.
    • Again, notice the rhythm and quality of your step.
    • Notice how the rest of your body feels and responds as you do this.  Perhaps notice any sensations or feelings.
  • Pause.
  • Now, invite yourself to step and make splashes in the puddles.
    • Again, notice the rhythm and quality of your step.
    • Be aware of how the rest of your body feels and responds as you do this.  Perhaps notice any sensations or feelings.
    • Perhaps step into another puddle and continue.
    • When you are ready, step out of the puddle back to the firmer ground.
  • If comfortable, say “thank you” to the water.
• Still standing, reach your hands out in front of you, palms upward.  Imagine it is raining.  Allow your palms to fill with water.  Then, holding the water, slowly lift your hands upward into a V-shape and offer the water back to the sky.
  • Holding your arms in the V-shape, breathe for three breaths.
  • Open your fingers so the water can flow back down to the earth.
  • Bring your hands over your heart – one hand over the other.  Bow your head slightly.  Allow your eyes to rest in a soft gaze or closed.
    • Silently:
      • Thank the rain.
      • Thank the waters that flow across the earth.
      • Thank the waters and fluids that flow within you.
      • Thank the water keepers and caretakers who work to preserve the flow of water for the well-being of all.

Transition back into your day – 

• Seated.  Sit quietly for as long as comfortable.  Invite a soft awareness of your breath.
• When you are ready, return to your day.

 

This poem is translated by Daniel Ladinsky and appears in Mala of the Heart: 108 Sacred Poems, page 60, edited by Ravi Nathwani and Kate Vogt and published by New World Library.  The practice is from a prior post.  H E A R T H is posted each new and full moon.  KateVogt©2025.

 

Upcoming Classes:  “Transcendental Love” (in-person) and “Ecological Roots of Spirituality” (online) – registration begins January 6.