Life Like a River
If we can learn to be comfortable enough within ourselves and with who we are today, that can act as our headwaters from which we can introduce ourselves to the world in authentic and vibrant ways.
Growing up, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what a river was like. In fact, I had a small stream that flowed behind my next door neighbor’s house and I and my siblings spent a lot of time with pants rolled up and tromping through the water. But it wasn’t until I moved to Oregon that I got the full spectrum of what a river could be.
Now I live about 10 minutes away from the Columbia River which has a width—I’m not talking about its length, but the narrower side of the river—wider than most lakes I grew up with. And it’s length and power, well, that is something else entirely. The Columbia River actually runs all the way up to Canada I found out from my work with the Forest Service, and every ten years there’s an international negotiation that takes place to lay out how both countries will handle this massive natural resource.
If we think back on our elementary school geography lessons we’ll remember that a river is essentially a ribbon of water that is gravity driven downhill from some origin point like a lake, a gathering of snowmelt or an underground spring. So we could say that one defining characteristic of a river is that it flows from one point to another.
Now lakes are quite different although they might largely be made out of the same stuff as rivers. We have really deep rivers like Crater Lake and then we have extremely shallow lakes that dry up in the summer. We have lakes that are headwaters—or origin points for rivers—up in the mountains and we have terminal lakes that only receive water flowing into them without any outlets.
One of those terminal lakes that has long held a great fascination for me growing up in Utah is the Great Salt Lake, which you might remember from a previous post, is the remnant of massive Lake Bonneville. The Great Salt Lake has a few rivers that feed into it but since those rivers bring in minerals like salts without have an outlet, as evaporation takes place, over time, the Lake has become progressively more salty. There’s an interesting part of the lake where a railroad line cuts across the northern arm that largely cuts off that portion from the rest of the lake and that section is a great deal saltier than the already quite salty water of the rest of the Lake. That northern arm is really something. I remember finding it quite other worldly.
I love learning about the Great Salt Lake and I am one of its biggest fans and defenders. Any time people discredit it as just being smelly and buggy I always talk up its huge importance for migratory birds and the local climate. But I think the lake could be a great symbol of something I’ve been thinking about this week.
One interesting fact of the lake is that it’s shaped a lot more like a platter than a bowl and so slight variations in inflows can have a huge impact on its surface area. You can imagine how this would work. If you poured a quart of water on a two quart bowl, that bowl would have no problem accommodating the water but if you were try the same thing with a plate, I hope you have some towels on the ready. Lately, due to increased use of the water that normally flows into the Lake, it has shrunk dramatically to the point that some scientists are worried about having the lake dry up completely and having that lead to dust storms and toxic chemicals blowing throughout the Salt Lake valley.
One lesson I draw from all of this is that we really should try to act more as rivers than terminal lakes in many respects. Rivers transport nutrients and their very activity provides oxygen that helps aquatic life thrive. Beyond that, they flow toward a destination and can help feed other water systems. And perhaps the most important, they know their own origin story back up at the headwaters and they don’t inevitably take the whips and scorns of over water use that impede their ability to play their vital role.
Upon some reflection this week, I had to be honest that often in my life, I’ve relied on a lot of things outside of my control to keep a sustainable happiness for myself. I relied on a teachers approval, or a parent’s urging, or the next feeling of accomplishment or the next thrilling step in my career or the next graduation, fun purchase, vacation, or chat with a friend.
All of those things are nice and I’m certainly not demonizing them in any way. But if we rely on them to fabricate feelings of happiness, then we’re bound to be heading in the terminal lake direction. If we can learn to be comfortable enough within ourselves and with who we are today, that can act as our headwaters from which we can introduce ourselves to the world in authentic and vibrant ways.