I didn’t go to the ocean or sit by a sacred spring. I turned on the tap in my kitchen.
Sometimes that’s all it takes.
I recently did an exercise called Learning the Lessons of Water, and I want to share what came through—not because it was dramatic or noteworthy, but because it was surprising.
The objective was simple enough: select your water source, pour it into a vessel, meditate with it, and let it communicate some wisdom to you through words, feelings, or images.
I’ll admit, I didn’t think much of what I had at first. I wanted a cup of the ocean, a river, or a waterfall, deeming these more special than anything that could come out of my faucet. But I sat at my desk with a glass of tap water and listened.
The message was simple. And more than I expected.
Here’s what the water said.
A glass of water overflowing in my kitchen sink.
Out of all the waters you could have chosen, I have to go through the most to get to you. I’ve been treated and tested, filtered and chlorinated. I’ve moved through labyrinths of infrastructure—storage tanks, pumping stations, and purification plants. I’ve flowed beneath streets and been pushed through decades-old pipes, some corroded, some patched. I’ve waited in silence inside reservoirs, been flushed through hydrants, spilled in service lines, and lost in leaks no one noticed for a long time. I’ve been softened for comfort, hardened by time, wasted without thought. And still, I arrive—clean enough and ready to give you what life I can. All water goes through changes, but I have endured the most. We have a lot in common that way. It’s not a fun or easy route, this path of arrival. But I promise—you will get there. And when you do, you’ll flow with grace. You’ll give life to others simply by being who you are. Not perfect, but clear. You and I, we are not glamorous. We are taken for granted. There are no poems written about us or special names given us. The nature of our service is quiet and unrecognized, but it is essential. We make things seem easy, when in reality they were quite complex and hard. Few know where we really came from, or what we’ve been through. But we know. We never forget. It is what makes us sacred.
