The Call of Water: A Reflection on Flow, Intention, and Self-Care

Water has been calling to me lately. This happens often—a quiet, persistent yearning to relax my mind, body, and soul. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate water not just as a physical element, but as a form of meditation and escape. For the past few weeks, I’ve told myself I needed to soak in a bubble bath. Yet each day, I faced the same dilemma: I felt like I had no time. My mind constantly is under war, with the quiet struggles that many of us face but rarely articulate- especially the tension between productivity and self-care, and the yearning for peace in the midst of constant motion. 

Yesterday was no different. I was constantly on the move, never pausing to rest. I had set a goal to take a bath that night. But by the time I got home, it was nearly midnight. I told myself I shouldn’t take a bath—it would push my bedtime past 1 a.m., and I wouldn’t wake up rested for work. Worse, I might sleep too comfortably and oversleep. I found myself disappointed for not fulfilling a task my soul had been quietly requesting.

On the other hand, this week has been profoundly remarkable. Over the past few weeks, I’ve worked diligently to restore my mental clarity and reconnect with a flow state. Through self-reflection, I’ve realized how easily I fall into the trap of being my own worst critic—driven by a tendency to overachieve. I declare tasks with determination, only to feel defeated when life inevitably shifts my plans.

As adults, we know how unpredictable life can be. Children, a flat tire, a sudden cold, food poisoning—there are countless variables that can derail even the most carefully planned day. What has helped me navigate these shifts is a revelation: life isn’t about setting goals and achieving them. Yes, goals are useful for focus and productivity, but the pressure we place on ourselves to meet them doesn’t define our success or failure. I explore this idea more deeply in my blog entry Book Review: Why Greatness Cannot Be Planned: The Myth of the Objective. The book challenges the societal obsession with objective-driven living. While it may seem harmless—even beneficial—this mindset can actually hinder our growth and disconnect us from our true path. Objective-based living often leads to overthinking, stress, and a loss of alignment with our deeper purpose. The book encourages us to embrace life as it unfolds, to trust the process, and to find joy in the journey. It reminds us that fate cannot be predicted linearly, and that sometimes the smallest, most unexpected encounters can change our lives. The seeds we plant—often unknowingly—can blossom into something extraordinary.

This message has become a grounding force in my life. When I find myself in a self-inflicted rut, questioning my confidence and will, I return to the wisdom of this book. It complements my spiritual practices—prayer, meditation, journaling—and together, they remind me not just to exist, but to flow. Now, I focus more on the intent of my day rather than the rigid pursuit of tasks. I’m learning to honor the quiet calls of my soul—like the call of water—and to trust that even in stillness, I am moving forward.

The fact that my soul kept calling for a bath isn’t trivial—it’s a signal. A gentle reminder from within that I deserve restoration, not just accomplishment. And with my newly evolving mindset—one rooted in growth and flow—I had a revelation: I needed to stop being so goal-oriented.

I also needed to remind myself of something I often say to others: People make time for what they want to make time for. I use this philosophy often, especially in my dating life, to understand how others prioritize. But this time, I realized I needed to hold myself accountable to that same truth. How I choose to spend my 24 hours each day is entirely up to me. The reason I hadn’t taken a bath wasn’t because I lacked time—it was because I hadn’t dedicated time to it.

Dedication.

The concept of dedication is far more powerful than goal achievement. Goals are outcomes—visible markers of progress. But dedication is the internal force that drives us toward those outcomes. It’s the quiet commitment, the unseen effort, the intentional choice to show up. Yes, we should celebrate achievements. But we should also take time to honor the dedication it took to get there. Because that’s where the real transformation lives—not in the finish line, but in every step, we took to reach it.

With this new direction of thinking, my mindset has quietly shifted. I now understand that I don’t need to find time to take a bath—I need to dedicate time to honor my body and rest my spirit.

I often wake in the middle of the night, usually between 3 and 4 a.m. Many refer to this as the “witching hour,” a time that carries various meanings. Spiritually, it’s known to be emotionally intense—a moment when thoughts deepen, anxieties surface, and introspection heightens, especially if you're awake and alone.

It was during this hour last night that a revelation came to me: instead of trying to carve out time for a bath in the evening, why not take one in the morning? Why not this morning?

There was nothing stopping me—except the desire for more sleep. But I’ve trained my body to wake as early as I need, typically no earlier than 5:30 a.m. If I chose to take a bath at 5:30, I’d still have plenty of time to get ready for work without feeling rushed.

So that’s exactly what I did.

And it was wonderful. Enlightening. I relaxed my body, meditated in the water, and set positive intentions for the day. As I lay in the tub, I reaffirmed my commitment to maintaining a flow state. Life isn’t about walking a straight line toward a fixed destiny. Sometimes there are curves, loops, bumps, and humps we must navigate. You might set a goal to buy a new home or car within a year, only to find that life delays that timeline by six months. And that’s okay. What matters is your dedication to the goal, not the exact timing of its achievement.

It’s not just about the destination—it’s about the journey.

This morning’s bath reminded me that honoring myself doesn’t require perfect timing—it requires intentionality. In choosing to dedicate time to my well-being, I reclaimed a moment of peace that had been waiting for me all along. Life will always present obstacles, delays, and detours, but when we move with intention and grace, we remain aligned with our purpose. The journey may not be linear, but it is always meaningful. And in those quiet, sacred moments—like a bath at dawn—we find clarity, strength, and the gentle reminder that we are worthy of rest, renewal, and flow.