Intelligence of a River

The river has already made the map. Long before human hands started drawing lines, before roads, before borders, before the illusion that we could control the flow. She carved the paths, shaped the valleys, and laid the blueprints for movement—not just of water, but of life, of thought, of story. She’s been doing this for deep, deep time, and we are only ever scratching the surface of what she knows.
 
This piece carries that wisdom—the slow, endless carving, the constant redesigning, the way she shifts the land and teaches it to move with her. There’s serpent knowledge in this one, the kind that winds and doubles back, showing how every turn holds a lesson. We design journeys, thinking we know the way, but the river holds the real intelligence. If we don’t listen, she will take back the space in her own way—because water does not wait, and neither do stories.
 
To work with the river is to understand that knowledge isn’t static. It moves, it cuts deep, it floods when ignored. To be a good custodian means making space for her voice in the design of things. Because in the end, whether we choose to listen or not, she will shape the journey. She always has and always will.