"The Little Stream and the Willow"
Once upon a time, there was a little stream who started flowing from the ground…
At first, it was just a tiny trickle between the rocks, but slowly, drop by drop, the stream grew. And as it grew, it felt something deep inside… a natural call. A pull toward the sea.
The stream knew, somehow, that this is where he should flow to. It felt right. It felt like home, even though he’d never been there.
So the little stream flowed… and flowed… and flowed…
Days passed. Then weeks. The stream wound through meadows and valleys, always moving, always following that inner pull toward the sea.
But as time passed, the sea was nowhere in sight.
The stream began to feel frustrated. “I should be there by now,” he thought. “I’m doing everything right. I’m flowing in the right direction. So why haven’t I reached it yet?”
The frustration grew into worry. “What if I never get there? What if something’s wrong with me?”
And that’s when the stream started pushing…
He would rush his waters, churning and forcing, trying to flow faster. “If I just try harder,” he told himself. “If I just push more, I’ll get there.”
But the harder he pushed, the more turbulent he became. Whirlpools formed in his waters, spinning and spinning, actually slowing him down. The current became chaotic. Debris got caught in the eddies, creating tangles and blockages.
The stream was working so hard… but going nowhere.
One night, as the stream churned with particular intensity, the old willow tree who lived on the bank felt her branches suddenly get caught in one of the whirlpools. Round and round they spun, pulled by the turbulent water.
“Oh my,” said the willow gently. “Little stream, what’s happening to you?”
The stream, embarrassed and exhausted, slowed just enough to speak. “I’m trying to reach the sea. I’ve been trying so hard. But no matter what I do, it never seems to get any closer.”
The willow’s branches swayed softly as they freed themselves from the whirlpool. “And how is all this trying working for you?”
The stream looked at himself… at the muddy, churning water… at all the debris caught in his eddies… at how exhausted he felt.
“Not well,” he admitted quietly. “I think… I think I’m making it worse.”
“Dear stream,” the willow whispered, “may I tell you something important?”
The stream listened.
“You’ve been moving toward the sea this entire time. Even right now, as we speak, you’re flowing in the right direction. You never stopped. Not even for a moment.”
The stream paused. “But… I’m not trying right now.”
“Exactly,” said the willow. “And yet… are you still flowing?”
The stream noticed, perhaps for the first time, that yes… he was still moving. The water was still going forward. Without any effort. Without any pushing.
“Streams don’t reach the sea by trying,” the willow continued softly. “They reach it by allowing. By trusting the natural slope of the land. By following the gentle pull that’s already there. You’ve had that pull inside you from the very beginning, remember?”
“The call…” the stream said softly. “The natural call to reach the sea.”
“Yes. That call isn’t something you have to create or force. It’s already guiding you. It’s been guiding you all along.”
That night, something shifted in the stream. He stopped pushing. He stopped churning. He simply… allowed himself to flow.
And something remarkable happened.
Without all that effort, without all that turbulence, the water became clear again. Smooth. The whirlpools dissolved. The debris floated away. The stream found he could move around obstacles naturally, effortlessly, following the easiest path without even thinking about it.
“Am I still going toward the sea?” he asked.
“You never stopped,” said the willow. “You were just making the journey harder than it needed to be.”
And as the stream flowed on through the peaceful night, he understood something profound: arriving isn’t something you force… it’s something that happens naturally… when you trust the process…
Just like sleep isn’t something you make happen…
It’s something you allow…
By trusting that your body knows the way…
The same way the stream knows how to flow…
Following that natural pull…
That gentle call…
Without any effort…
Without any trying…
Just… allowing…
Trusting…
Flowing…
Naturally…
Effortlessly…
Toward rest…