Flow like water
July 4, 2024 by Gina Murdock
Image courtesy @mountainberryphoto Canva/Getty Images
I’ve spent a considerable amount of my life on or near water. I grew up by the Pacific Ocean in Southern California, spending my days riding waves and frolicking in the ocean or in a pool. Soon after moving to Colorado to attend college in Durango, I became a river runner — a raft guide and kayaker.
Through my seven private trips on the Grand Canyon alone, I’ve spent nearly 150 days riding the currents of rivers and probably 150-plus more days on other Western rivers throughout my time as a kayaker and river guide.
These were some of the best times of my life. These river currents live in my veins even though I haven’t been in my boat for years. I’ll never forget the sensation of riding on water.
As a kayaker, I felt so connected to the river’s currents. I would be pulled into eddies whether I wanted to or not sometimes. I would be thrashed, often on purpose and sometimes not, by huge recirculating holes. I’ve surfed countless waves looking upstream at beautiful, red canyon walls. I’ve run Class V, which has deadly consequences, and I’ve nailed it. And, I’ve swam through Class V nearly drowning.
Image courtesy @pancaketom2 Canva Images
Riding water taught me something that was already part of my personality, something I learned from my mother who would artfully avoid conflict with my father. My sense is she loved us kids so much she would rather swallow her grievances and let my father be right, so we could flow into a more peaceful dinner hour. I watched her do this and inherited this quality myself. Flow. Avoid obstacles. Find the path of least resistance.
I am a peacemaker, and it’s cost me something.
At some point, the flow of water reaches the ocean, and it dissolves into oneness. In my life, I feel like I am mostly flowing in a way that serves my highest good — but not always. The yogis say that the practice of yoga is meant to disrupt our natural inclination to seek pleasure and avoid pain. That ping pong kind of energy of avoiding and seeking isn’t where enlightenment is; it’s in the center. From the center, there is a depth of knowing and equanimity even if a storm is brewing on the surface.
In some ways, this could be considered the flow state, but I think that term has been co-opted by too many commercial interests to be compelling to me. What I’ve found through navigating my life is that awareness is the key ingredient to a healthy flow. Am I seeking pleasure and avoiding pain by flowing around conflict? Am I avoiding things that need to be looked at by flowing around obstacles? Am I silencing my voice, my truth, to avoid upsetting someone opting instead to be quiet and “keep the peace”? It seems this type of flow is called avoidance, and I’ve been guilty of this behavior. It can create a lot of stagnant energy, and we know stagnancy is where dis-ease thrives.
As I wake up to the truth of my heart and the truth of my being, I find power and freedom in speaking my intention, commitment, and desire to be loyal to my soul, to listen to my heart, and to follow my dreams. I see that while there is always a place for flow and letting things go and artfully dancing through life, there is also a place for holding and standing in my truth, like a rock in the river standing strong after thousands of years of being worn by water — that kind of truth. I see there is a place for rapids and intensity where the flow carves through rock and creates a channel that wasn’t there before. This is the creative response that comes from not being stuck in recirculating thinking that says things need to be a certain way or that they will always be like this just because that’s how it was in the past. I can break a pattern and flow with awareness, with power and discernment that allows me to see when to hold, when to flow, when to wait underground, when to emerge with fury, and when to form a beautiful wave to ride into the sunset with a huge smile.
I see that we are all, ultimately, going to the same place of oneness regardless how we get there. The point of it, as far as I can tell, is to enjoy the ride and be true to the unique flow inside of our hearts.
This post originally appeared in my monthly column in The Aspen Times.