Flowing river

Today I started reading Paulo Coelho’s Like the Flowing River. His first story touched me. It is about three different times in his life, alike to three distinct movements in a symphony. He calls them “a lot of people”, “a few people”, and “almost no one”. I assume he replays these movements over and over again, like we do when we enjoy a particular piece of music. Last night my daughter played Beyoncé’s Crazy in Love, and I asked her to play it again two more times.

About Coelho, I start to relate to his movements, because I am realizing that writing is a solitary activity. I can’t always do it alone, though, and I regularly write in my favorite Starbucks. I also connected to Coelho’s reflections in his second story, where he described how he doubted if he should weed his garden or not. I liked that he reached a conclusion and could move forward. I have so many reflections in my life these past few years, and I look around a lot for guidance on how to take the next steps on my journey. The solution lies within me, I found out, but other people and their written words and songs help to connect me with the wisdom that lies inside me.

What I realized in the past days is that I have much going for me, but that my life flow gets blocked easily. The river of my life stagnates easily these days, doesn’t flow well. I wonder why this happens, and how I can unblock myself. Will I use dynamite to blast through rapids of unhealthy habits or blow up dams of self-doubt? Should I dredge my river bed of sediment and sludge from the past? Coelho finishes the story with a commitment to “attack the weeds I did not invite to grow in my garden.” And he concludes that “when something undesirable grows in my soul, I ask God to give me the same courage to mercilessly pluck it out.”

I am writing again.


Photograph: Coelho's book cover