Why Flow? You Were Made to Collide.
“Water doesn’t rage against the rocks but wears them down over time.”
This is one of those wise, poetic lines meant to inspire patience, persistence, and the quiet power of endurance. And sure, it’s beautiful. Water shapes the world without resistance, effortlessly carving through mountains and outlasting everything in its path.
But here’s the thing: you’re not water.
And, babe, you get to rage against those rocks.
Behold — The Ones Who Argue with Reality
Maybe water has its own wise sayings — quiet whispers shared among droplets and passed down through waves and tides.
Maybe, just as we sit in awe of its quiet strength, water stands in awe of us.
“Behold the Gods that walk on two legs,” it tells its young.“They can hesitate! They can resist, defy, and break before they bend. They can fight against their very own nature just to see if they can win.”
Perhaps water warns itself of our chaotic ways, whispering about the humans who have the wondrous ability to doubt themselves, to judge their own judgments, to fear their own fears.
What a mind-bending feat.
No river pauses mid-flow to wonder if it’s flowing correctly. No ocean crashes against the shore, then feels bad about it later. No raindrop ever hesitates, questioning whether it really belongs in the storm.
Yet we do.
The Divine Art of Playing Small
We are the only beings on this planet that get to play small on purpose — and then convince ourselves it was an accident.
Imagine that.
We, the ones capable of expanding beyond limitation, choose — again and again — to shrink. To hesitate, to second-guess, to doubt ourselves into paralysis when our very existence is proof of boundlessness.
And here’s the mind-blowing part: Even when we do this, we do it magnificently.
We don’t just hold ourselves back — we agonize over it. We don’t just hesitate — we construct entire philosophies around why we must. We don’t just doubt ourselves — we judge our own doubt, overthink our overthinking, and second-guess our second-guessing.
We’ve turned self-doubt into an Olympic-level event.
Show me any other being on this planet that can pull that off.
Even the gods we imagine — omnipotent, all-seeing, universe-wielding forces — don’t have this ability. The gods don’t hesitate. The gods don’t wake up at 2 AM wondering if they offended someone. The gods don’t loop themselves into existential crises just to see how deep the rabbit hole goes.
But we do.
And if that’s not proof of limitless creativity, I don’t know what is.
The Lesson is in The Mirror
So no, you’re not water. You don’t have to wear down the rocks over time.
You get to slam against them.
You get to crash, burn, doubt, fear, rise, question, rebuild — because you can. You get to clash with your own reflections.
You get to challenge yourself, hesitate, contradict, and overthink.
You get to fight your own nature for the sheer experience of it.
Who else gets to do that? What other being on this planet has the power to pause, to fear, to judge itself, and to make an art form out of shrinking?
This isn’t a flaw. This is a masterpiece.
Water can’t do this. The wind doesn’t stop to wonder if it’s moving too fast. A tiger doesn’t pace in its den thinking, Maybe I should be more humble today.
But you do. And that’s extraordinary.
So, no, this isn’t something to transcend. This is something to marvel at. To celebrate. To own.
You, my friend, don’t need to flow like water. And you sure as hell don’t need to shrivel, soften, or surrender.
You get to stand tall in your contradictions. You get to doubt, stumble, and rage — and still rise. You get to own the fullness of your being — the paradox, the chaos, the brilliance of it all.
Because you are not here to be effortless.
You are here to collide.
💋Kristen
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