Water and the Myth of Infinite Flow

We were told to “go with the flow.”

Sounds nice, right?

But somewhere along the way, “flow” got hijacked by capitalism.

Suddenly flow means endless productivity, inbox zero, squeezing 25 hours out of a 24-hour day.

Flow became a faucet left running in a drought.

That’s not flow.

That’s extraction.

That’s the myth.

Ayurveda and the Tao knew better.

They spoke of rasa: the fluids that nourish every tissue, the waters of life itself.

They taught us the river is holy because it ebbs and floods, because it rests in still pools and crashes in waves. Even the moon, silver mother of tides, waxes and wanes.

Flow is not infinite. Flow is cyclical.

Flow is the permission to retreat when the river runs low.

Here’s My Confession on Flow

I dammed myself up.

I believed if I just kept pouring out, more production or hours, more ideas, more energy, more service, I’d prove my worth. One day, I'd have enough. One day, I'd be enough to do all of the things.

I mistook depletion for devotion. And my body paid the toll: dry skin, dry eyes, dry heart.

The reservoir dropped, and I was still handing out cups to anyone who asked.

That wasn’t generosity. That was theft.... from myself.

Course correction: honor the tide.

Drink water before coffee. Take breaks even when the calendar says Go. Notice when you’re the crashing wave and when you’re the still pond, and stop apologizing for both. Let the body swell and empty like the moon. Let rasa replenish. Rest is not laziness.

It’s irrigation.

No river flows forever without pause.

No woman bleeds without renewal.

No culture thrives without rain.

Flow is holy because it ends.

So let’s stop pretending we’re faucets hooked to an infinite supply.

Let’s remember we are rivers: wild, seasonal, lunar, divine.

Let’s learn to be tidal again.

Let’s get well.

Love, Meg