Been thinking about this lately: sometimes water moves in flow, motivated by gravity to follow the path of least resistance. And there is a channel, a place for it to go.

And other times, water spreads out. This too is a path of least resistance, although the motion is not visible to the naked human eye. Sometimes water runs into a flat place, and finds the soil saturated. Nothing more can be soaked up by the ground, so it finds low places. Pools form. Or water rests in a sheen of moisture.

Life is like that. I want to be in motion, running through an obvious channel, transforming energy into work. I want life to be clear and direct. But it’s not always. Sometimes it spreads into a saturated field, not stagnant but not moving. Look what blooms in this stillness–orchids who don’t mind having wet feet. The water goes into flowers and into the air.

As I wait for spring to really arrive, to revive hiking and gardening, I am learning to be still in this receptive time of being a meadow. My energy is pooled up, waiting to grow. I must accept wet feet for now.