Rewiggling the river
How wiggly is your river?
I know it’s an unusual question.
Let me explain.
For the last two hundred years, European rivers have been artificially straightened.
It makes the surrounding land easier to farm, and the water flows faster.
But there’s a catch.
It’s made many of these canalised areas more prone to flooding. It’s made the water quality worse.
And it’s reduced the amount and variety of nature that can thrive there.
So, in the US, UK, and the Netherlands, “re-wiggling” rivers is underway. It means intentionally putting back the bends and curves that these waterways used to have.
The benefits?
The water meanders, creating areas for wildlife to return and thrive. Flooding further downstream is reduced. And the water naturally becomes more clear due to it moving more slowly.
Why am I talking about this here?
Because of the parallel with how many of us live.
Society has tried to straighten our personal rivers as much as possible, like a stressed parent pulling at a dawdling child.
The straight river makes us “productive” within the boundaries others define, and the pace keeps our thinking too muddy to question if we’re heading in the right direction.
This process starts in earnest when we attend school. It’s no surprise that universal schooling dates from the same time as many rivers were straightened.
“Factory owners required docile, agreeable workers who would show up on time and do what their managers told them. Sitting in a classroom all day with a teacher was good training for that.”
As I explore what Soft Living means to me, it feels like re-wiggling the river.
Adding softness to my life by taking a nap or prioritising my own unpaid creative project? I’m deviating from the straight river of using my time productively.
They’re small steps to counter the toxic productivity that pervades much of hustle culture, which equates doing more with being more worthy in the eyes of others.
(Ironically, research confirms that rest makes us more productive and that pushing onwards past a certain point reaps diminishing returns.)
I admit, I’m slowing down and being gentle with myself out of necessity at the moment as I try to balance my commitments with the hibernation mode that autumn has triggered.
It sucks, and I know that slowing down is a privilege that not everyone can access.
But still, I wonder: how can more of us add a little bend, a little curve, to slow down the rushing water of our lives?
And create the pockets of softness that help us thrive.
