Think Like Water
“Think like water.”
I first heard this expression was in a documentary on Bill Zeedyk a hydrologist who pioneered the concept of making small changes to restore entire ecosystems. Now, I’d heard Bruce Lee suggest to “be like water,” but to “think like water?” That was a new one.
My journey to think like water began years ago — right in my own backyard, with a leak in our basement. During heavy downpours, water cascaded along the neighbor’s fence, down an incline, sliding over our hard-packed yard before following the cracks in the clay to our basement. In my previous life as a real estate investor, I came to see water as the enemy — of houses, at least. Once it gets into your home, then comes the mold, followed by termites — soon your foundation begins to crack. Next thing you know, you’ve got a dumpster full of wet drywall and enough fans in your house to acheive lift off.
Learning to think like water began as an attempt to preserve my wife’s sanity. Along the way, however, I found analogies to my spiritual journey.
Here are the lessons I learned:
Lesson 1: To truly think like water, you must immerse yourself in experience.
Many nights, I donned a raincoat, opened an umbrella (or improvised with a plastic tote) and stood out in the rain. It was the only way to truly understand how water moved. I got soaked, bailed water out of window wells, and returned to the garage with soggy shoes, but each experience taught me something new about water’s nature.
A spiritual life follows a similar path. If you avoid challenging situations, shy away from confronting the unpleasant aspects of your personality, or dodge tough questions, you’ll miss the essence of growth. Just as I had to feel the rain to understand water, you must engage with discomfort to understand yourself. Only then will you begin to see that what you once viewed as suffering can become a source of liberation and insight.
Key Point: Embrace discomfort to gain understanding.
Lesson 2: To flow like water, embrace life’s curves.
In my countless nights of rain-watching, one truth became abundantly clear: water loves curves more than Sir Mix-a-Lot. As I traced the paths of raindrops and rivulets, I observed that in their quest for the path of least resistance, they naturally meandering as they flowed. Take comfort, all you wanderers out there!
The contrast became stark when I considered the design of man-made waterways. Irrigation ditches, culverts, and canals stood out immediately with their unnaturally straight lines. These artificial streams flowed quickly and carved deep, but lacked the gentle, adaptive nature of their natural counterparts.
How does this translate to the spiritual path?
- Embrace the meandering path: Just as a natural stream winds its way through the landscape, our life journeys rarely follow a straight line. Each curve and detour can offer new perspectives and unexpected opportunities.
- Seek simplicity, not force: Water doesn’t fight against obstacles; it finds the most efficient way around (and occasionally, through) them. In life, this principle encourages us to work with our circumstances rather than exhausting ourselves in head-on confrontations.
- Depth vs. Speed: While straight, man-made channels move water quickly, natural streams create rich ecosystems along their banks. Similarly, a life lived too rigidly might achieve goals quickly but miss out on the richness of experience that comes from a more adaptive approach. Moreover, success may come at a price, depriving those around you.
- Persistence and patience: Water’s gradual, persistent flow shapes landscapes over time. Our own growth and impact often come not from dramatic gestures, but from consistent, patient effort.
Key Point: Life’s meandering path often leads to the richest experiences.
Lesson 3: Your perceived enemy may be your greatest teacher.
In my real estate days, a mentor offered a water analogy which he related to money: “Money, like water, flows into everyone’s life. The question is how big is your container? Are you a thimble or a reservoir?”
I knew deep down that water wasn’t my enemy; it sustained life. It was inconvenient water at undesirable times and places that caused me to perceive it adversarially. But the problem wasn’t the water, it was my systems for managing it. Marianne Williamson once said, “A miracle is a shift in perception from fear to love.” I needed a miracle in my view of water.
I began to consider my house’s systems for dealing with water. Gutters were designed to shed water away from the house, into the streets and on to the rivers. But, my “Marianne miracle moment” came when I asked, “What if instead, I retained that water to recharge my land and plants? How would things look different?” Asking a different question changed everything in an instant: “I’d need storage containers, irrigation tubes and swales, yes, lots of swales!”
The application is the same for our spiritual lives. Many times we see those who trigger us most as our enemies — just think of our current political landscape. But, what if we asked a different question: “What if my ‘enemy’ was sent as a teacher, meant to reveal my personal hypocrisies and shadowy elements of self?” Then, our world changes. We find ourselves reevaluating our deeply held beliefs and how they are connected to our identity. In turn, our interactions with our enemies change and we embrace, rather than shun them.
Key Point: Shift your perspective to turn adversaries into allies.
Lesson 4: Water needs time to percolate.
When your goal becomes to retain water, you start to think about the environment water prefers to hang out in. Just as a city looking to revitalize might try to stimulate the arts, restaurant scene and night life, those looking to capture water pay attention to soil porosity, topography and slope.
It was at this point in my water education that I developed an interest in the different types of ground on which I trode. Before, I’d never given much thought to how soil, mulch and clay differed—they were all dirt. But water treats each surface of the earth differently. Bill Zeedyk suggests that if your goal is to slow down fast-moving water, you can erect small dams, one rock high at intervals in the stream. Mulch, with its spongy composition and spaces between pieces, gives both the material and space for water to absorb. To the contrary, clay and asphalt shed water, contributing to flash flooding by overburdening our rivers and storm sewers.
Creating absorbent soil protects our communities, just as creating space in our minds can protect our spiritual well-being. When you first begin to explore the spiritual path, you’ll find people refining terms: spirit, soul, body, etc. There will be a thirst for more and more information. But, if you haven’t created space to absorb this information, it will glide off, not being retained and its nourishing potential will be lost.
To retain spiritual knowledge requires creating space, much like creating absorbent soil to retain water. The equivalent of a single rock dam in our lives may be taking a walk, gardening or meditation. It may be a quick 4–7–8 breathing practice each time a recurring thought arises. Perhaps a daily routine of tea with a loved one. You’ll figure out what works for you.
Making yourself more porous to create the space for ideas to take root requires purposefully tilling the soil of your beliefs. Even many no-till farmers will start by taking a broadfork and flipping that hard clay on its head, before adding compost, shredded leaves and worms. In our lives, this may look like seeking new experiences.
I remember going to my first Gay Men’s Chorus in Des Moines. I’d never experienced this growing up fundamentalist, but there was something about seeing a room full of men loving and supporting each other while singing in the most beautiful way that cut through and humanized in a way that I could not unsee or feel. This experience was like adding organic matter to the hard clay of my preconceptions, creating space for new understandings to take root.
Key Point: Create space in your life for new ideas to take root.
My journey with water is an ongoing one. If you’d like to follow along and watch it unfold in real time, feel free to subscribe to my YouTube channel. You can see my new 650 gallon water tank hooked up to my roof and irrigation system. I’m learning, like all of you, but I tend to agree with Bill Zeedyk: small changes to restore entire ecosystems, and tiny changes in how we perceive our problems, and microshifts in our daily routines cannot only nourish and revitalize our souls, but they have the potential to heal deep rifts caused by faulty perception, flawed systems and poor timing.
