On "Flow"

  The animated movie "Flow" concerns the adventures of a cat and his friends as they struggle to survive a flood. From the beginning of the movie, we find this beautiful small cat enjoying his solitude, only to have his own fortress engulfed in water. He is forced to depend upon other living creatures, including a capybara, a water bird, a lemur and a few dogs. 

    This movie was moving to me because I felt connected with these animals, even when their communication was not in any language that could be put into words. The story itself reminded me that most of our language happens on a nonverbal level, taking the form of gestures, actions and intimations. As the title of the movie suggests, all of our actions, hopes, intentions, are taking part in a continuous river that always threatens to engulf us, as does happen when the cat frequently submerges himself in deep waters, only to be saved by some force of nature or graceful act from other species. Yet, somehow "life goes on" as they say, and more than anything, this cat even willfully submerges itself in water, almost as though it were experimenting with how long it can stay submerged without struggling to get back to the boat from which it has taken refuge. This is something like what we do when we meditate: how long can I bear the leg pain, the itchiness, the drowsiness and discomfort? Maybe I can learn to catch a few fish instead of catching "Z's"!

     Flow is also an expression that denotes a state of vulnerable allowing. Like the cat, I feel myself oscillating between states of fear (wanting to protect myself, my likes and solitude) and states of flow: wanting to keep a part of myself separate in order to salvage my existence (like that tiny ball of a lifeboat that floats around throughout the movie), while sometimes finding myself letting go into the flow of experience. I don't think it's wrong to be afraid, but at the same time the beauty of this movie comes from this cat's brave acts of gradual trust: trusting the dog that gobbles all its fish, the ways of the other animals on the boat, and the ability to co-exist with them.

    I highly doubt that anybody can "go with the flow" on their own or out of their own choosing. The flood, in fact, seems to symbolize how something greater than all of us has to sweep us away from ourselves before we can truly experience flow. That "something" might be a huge loss or a yielding to something mysterious or bigger than us, and it can also be a big question mark that we wrestle with and can't solve or understand. But the point is it can't really come from self-attachment. It has to be allowing something bigger to take over. So, when we talk about going with the flow, we need not try to divest ourselves of anything. The best way is to have faith and trust that something is already unfolding the way it is meant to, and to enjoy the ride as much as we can.