Rivers flow. They can gush, trickle, meander, rush and tumble. And sometimes they hardly seem to move at all.
The other day somebody made the following observation. Speaking softly and assuming I would understand, she said Humm, pushing the river.
In the same conversation she said she understood ‘refraining’ as being like one long continuous note playing in the background. Rather than a string of staccato commands, which are hard on the ears and often harsh on the heart.