Cooperating With The River: Finding Energy For Your Life Work

Walking across a college campus during the first weeks of fall classes is like nothing else.

Students are back, or experiencing college for the first time. The first-year students still look you in the eye and smile as they walk by. There's a sense of hope that the semester will go well, that friendships are out there to be made, that your goals are attainable.

It's my absolute favorite time of year to be a professor, and I float across campus as I breathe in the energy of possibility.

Of course, it's not long before the student's moods are dampened by deadlines and stress. And as the weeks fly by and challenges arise, the demeanor and energy of the campus change. Eyes become downcast, brows furrow, and late nights begin to show in the body language of learners.

I'm sure you can guess for which version of the students it is easier to facilitate space for learning. But I've learned to see these changes as something to be respected rather than mourned. I see my work as a dance with their curiosity and enthusiasm, and I've learned to cooperate with it as one must cooperate with the rising and falling of a meandering river.

In many of our communities, rivers are no longer allowed to flow as they would otherwise. The unpredictability and dynamic nature of free-flowing rivers created too many challenges for farms and cities, so we created channels, built levees, and poured concrete banks to try and control them.

But if you've had the chance to see a truly wild river, you know that they meander, braid themselves, create and abandon their banks, and rise and fall with the seasons and weather. The rivers are not hurt by this - it is we who want to tame them and extract their power who are hurt.

A number of years back, Elise and I were co-executive directors at a summer camp in the coastal range of western Oregon. An unnamed creek met the Long Tom River on the 36 acre camp we managed. In the mornings during the rainy seasons (so like 9 months of the year), one of my favorite things to do was to go check on the creek.

Over night, the creek could move its bank 20 or 30 feet in places. 6 foot banks of soil and alder trees could disappear and change the course of the creek. A few weeks later it would change again. Foot bridges would get washed out, sand bars would appear and disappear. Its power and dynamism was awesome to see.

It's been helpful for me to understand curiosity, enthusiasm, and energy for my life work as a kind of river. Whether I am teaching, writing a grant, working on a manuscript, or just cleaning the kitchen; cooperating with this river is far easier and healthier than trying to channel it and moderate its flow into a steady, predictable stream.

When I cooperate with the river of my energy, my work is better and my mood is brighter. I'm less harsh toward myself or toward others. My expectations are not lowered, but they are softened. I experience less disappointment, less shame, and escape ruts with greater ease.

In practical terms, this means listening and watching. What are my students going through? What work have I recently been doing? Have I dealt with past disappointments or failures? Is the river high or low? Are the banks where they were yesterday? Has it recently rained?

Of course there are plenty of tasks that simply must be done, regardless of how I feel about them. Nonprofit management, writing, and teaching are each full of things that I'd prefer not to do.

So I listen and watch my mind and body, allowing me to float when the water runs high, taking the currents as far as they'll go. And I've stopped cursing the river when it changes course or runs low. Instead, I go daily, even hourly, on walks along my river to see where the banks have gone, where I've built faulty levees, and when to pray for rain.

This is a challenge in settings where 40 hour work weeks are the norm, but its not impossible. Even within these manmade flood plains, the experiences of shame, confidence, efficacy, and impotence are worth our attention as we seek to cooperate with channeled rivers of energy.

Working with colleagues or students means turning these reflective senses outward. We can ask ourselves, "What are the signs in this work space that clue me in to how our collective river is running? How can I cooperate with the river to make the most of its flow today?"

It takes a mindfulness that for some is easy, and others is hard. But adopting reflective exercises can be done to boost anyone's ability to watch and listen to the river. Take time before, during, and/or after a gathering to ask yourself, "What did I see today?" "How did I react to my efforts to jump start our(my) work?" "Would something more physical (or emotional, or reflective, or creative) have changed my perspective of the river?" And so on.

Cooperating with the river of our curiosity, enthusiasm, and energy is not meant to excuse apathy or never-ending procrastination. If the river never flows, its no longer a river. Instead, cooperating with the river of energy for our life work can be a catalyst for healthier relationships with productivity and creativity. And, it can lead to the kind of wild flow that often animates personal and social transformation.

So as I enjoy this time of year, with its hope, curiosity, and enthusiasm, I try to do so as one who walks along a beautiful river. It will change with time and season, swelling with life, and shrinking with thirst. But if I accept the river on its own terms, and watch its dynamic rise and fall with a posture of humility, I can find its beauty and life-giving flow in all seasons.

What river have you been fighting? How have the banks shifted over time and have you adjusted to the new streams of energy? What does cooperating with the river look like for your personal and collective context?