"I am rooted, but I flow."

—Virginia Woolf, The Waves

To be rooted suggests a ground that holds—something beneath the surface that doesn't shift with every mood or circumstance. Many of us have spent years looking for that steadiness outside ourselves, in approval, in control, in having things arranged just right. It tends not to stay where we put it.

What some teachers call flow may be less about movement than about release—the ease that arrives when self-will loosens its grip and something larger is allowed to carry us. That something may not be indifferent. It may be closer to what we mean when we use the word Love—a current that was always moving, always tending toward something, always available beneath the effort of swimming against it.