Creek-Fed or Spring-Fed: Choosing Your Inner Source After Loss

Our lake is creek-fed. Tannins from the surrounding woods color the water a deep, honest tea. Nearby lakes fed by pure springs look almost turquoise, crystalline. The difference is striking, even from a distance.

Two Different Kinds of Water

My friend Sue once reminded me of the headwaters of certain rivers—pure springs bubbling up from deep in the earth, creating waters of startling clarity. After Erich was killed, I felt the pull to let the external event color everything. The creek-fed path felt easier in some ways. More honest, perhaps.

Instead I kept repeating one quiet directive: keep your heart open. Let the wellspring inside keep flowing.

The Choice After Loss

It was daily practice. Feeling the grief fully. Crying when the waves came. Refusing to let the story of what happened become the only story. Eleven months later I spoke with a woman who had lost her son eleven years earlier. When she spoke of him, the wound still felt raw. Her heart had closed. The pain had colored everything.

I saw the difference between a creek-fed life—constantly tinted by what flows into us—and a spring-fed life, where the pure well of joy and spirit keeps rising from within.

The Difference Eleven Years Can Make

That conversation stayed with me. There is a river of joy inside each of us. An open heart keeps the channel clear. Closing the heart may feel protective, but over time it changes the color of our entire inner world.

In midlife, especially when navigating grief alongside other transitions, this choice becomes even more meaningful. We can honor what has flowed into our lives while still tending the inner spring that wants to rise.

Tending the Inner Wellspring

If grief or any heavy season has colored your waters lately, place a hand on your chest and whisper, “I am willing to stay open.” Let the inner spring bubble up, even for a moment. The lake holds both the color and the life. So can we.

This practice returns us to ourselves. Not by denying what has happened, but by refusing to let it be the only source feeding our waters. There is wisdom here for any season of loss or change.