The roar of a river became evident as our vehicle took a turn. It flowed to our left. Clear water, pulsating with the monsoon energy, it was full of life. I was on a company trip and even though the villa had a pool and other facilities, we were drawn to the river first. Soon after lunch, we walked to its bank without a clear agenda in mind.
At the bank most of us sat by the river, with our feet dipped in, listening to the water flow resolutely towards the coast. A few wagtails and a pied kingfisher kept up their hunting in the distance. A few local villagers were washing their laundry on the other bank.
When I ventured deeper, the rapids came into clearer sight. Small waves formed when the water hit the uneven rocky riverbed. This change of gradient and large rocks created a standing wave which soon dissipated and merged with the downstream flow.
The water droplets suspended mid-air for that one tiny moment, a small act of rebellion to be crushed and to be repeated soon after. Although they seemed inconsequential, when repeated multiple times over many years, these waves had the capability to smoothen out jagged rocks, alter the river bed and even change the course of the river itself.
The river reminded me of my own inconsistent efforts at change. Atomic repetitions in isolation seemed negligible in impact but when viewed in a longer term, the entire outcome changed.
Life is hardly full of dramatic transformations or grand gestures. Real change that sticks takes repetition. Perhaps this is why working out or even writing frequently (and getting better) has evaded me. One long block of writing over the weekend can hardly be transformative for sharpening my skill. But if only I showed up consistently, I could even expect to see some results. Like those persistent droplets in the river.