Snow melted and the rains arrived.
Empty riverbeds once again welcomed their yearly awakening.
The current rises and continues its journey toward freedom, toward merging with the waters of the world. It does not ask what stands in its way. Stones, trees, animals, even entire settlements can be swept away by its force.
And so it goes, year after year.
Until humanity decides to place “an iron gate” before it, believing the river can finally be controlled. But water never truly stands still. It stubbornly finds new paths, hidden passages, unseen cracks. Because it will reach its destination, even if it must take the longer way around.
And perhaps we are not so different.
Sometimes we build dams within ourselves to soften what we carry before offering it to others. Sometimes those dams are necessary. Sometimes they hold back only a small stream, and sometimes they fail against a flood powerful enough to destroy everything in its path.
Over time, through experience and through other people, we learn what kind of gates we place before our emotions. Yet silence does not erase energy. Even when everything appears calm on the surface, something underneath is still moving.
That energy can become something creative. Or it can quietly widen the cracks within us.
One thing is certain: water never stands still.
If we learn to understand it, it can become something valuable. Water adapts to the shape it is given, yet it never loses its nature.
And if we recognize when the rainy days are approaching, perhaps we can prepare ourselves before they wash away the things we have carefully built and deeply care about.
But first, we must learn how to live with the river.
Respect it, and perhaps it will respect us in return.
