A friend reminded me last week of a bit of wisdom that I've heard before but that is easily forgotten in the rush of our oh-so-busy lives.
"Don't Push the River, It Flows By Itself"
The first time I heard this statement, I felt like I was smacked on the forehead with a deep wisdom that I should have already known, but which also eluded me.
I have always been someone who pushed my limits and this has served me well in many ways, but it also came at a cost that I am no longer willing to pay.
Consider a river. It flows, sometimes quietly and gently and sometimes loudly and with lots of turbulence. But no matter what, the river always gets to where it's going in its own time.
There is no time.
There is only Flow.
There is no amount of external force is going to make it happen any faster or slower than it wants to happen naturally.
Our lives are like this. When we strive and reach and push we can sometimes exhaust ourselves in the process and we don't get where we're going any faster than we would have if we surrendered to the flow.
Healing is also like this and I often tell trauma survivors that the slower you go, the faster you get there. It may seem like a contradiction, but decades of personal and professional experience have taught me that it is true.
Slow down, drift with the natural flow and allow life to unfold. it works and it feels soooo much better!
Where do you try to push the river?
What can you let go of that is holding you back?
Where can you enter a place of ease and flow, even if just for a moment?
©2025 Linnea Butler
If you enjoyed this essay, you may also enjoy the accompanying guide The River’s Flow
Hi Linnea. This is such an important message. In a world where instant gratification is often saught out, there are no quick fixes when we're talking about healing. As some rivers are long and winding, and others shorter and straight, everyone's healing path, like the rivers, are unique. The bed of the river is our subconscious mind. It holds all the water! ✨️💚✨️
Linnea, this feels like sitting beside water and finally remembering how to breathe.
“Don’t push the river” echoes in my chest the way “you can’t pull the grass to make it grow faster” does—it’s the same kind of grounded truth that asks us to shift from striving into trusting.
I’ve spent years learning (and forgetting, and relearning) that healing, growth, and even clarity can’t be forced into arrival. Your words offer a welcome pause in a world that keeps asking us to hurry. Thank you for this reminder to let life move at its own honest pace.