How to Listen
To A River

by Gordon Artrias Rosenberg

I sat in silence at the edge of a mid-sized river. The rapids before me were of a gentle nature, such as would provide a bouncy yet not-too-threatening inner tube ride. Occasional whitecaps, a few easy swirls and plenty of smooth water on the sides. A good ride, yes. But it wasn’t tubing that I had come here for today.

I had come to listen. Yes listen, for listening to water is one of my favorite hobbies. A pretty mild hobby, you say? About as thrilling as stamp collecting? Could be, but in its own way it can be more exciting than you might guess. Let me tell you how I do it.

First, not any spot along a river or stream will do —not if you’re looking for state-of-the-art water listening. What we’re after here is peak relaxation which can be attained only by optimum conditions. If the water’s too soft —no rapids, no ripples along the banks— the sound will barely get through to your ears. That’s fine if you just want to take a nap in the fresh air, but it won’t bring you a level of pleasure that master water listeners regularly attain.

On the other hand, if you select a roaring waterfall or rapids that would capsize Thor Heyerdahl (he who traveled across the Atlantic several decades ago in a custom-fitted raft) you will be in for an all-different kind of listening experience. Roaring water can be invigorating, and also deeply relaxing in its own way. But today I’m writing about the kind of relaxation which comes from peaceful water. So on this occasion I sought out a moderately still piece of water and immediately found a wonderful natural meditation seat waiting for me. This seat was actually a large cedar tree with a chair-shaped above ground root for a ‘cushion’ and the tree itself for a backrest. When I’m not this fortunate, there’s generally a comfortable enough rock or fallen log nearby. Or, the ground will do in a pinch.

I am always careful to choose a place where a near-sighted fisherman won’t snag me in mid-cast, or somebody’s over-exuberant great dane won’t knock me into the water. Neither experience particularly enhances the relaxation experience. This seat met both precautions. Once I’m settled in place, I take some time to gaze at the river. I notice the ripples, the swells, the whitecaps, the patterns on the surface. Each section of water has its own pattern, its own contour, its own personality really. I believe that, like a snowflake, no two pieces of water have the same pattern. Each time I really look at any water surface, it’s a brand new experience. It’s always a first time.

As soon as I’m ready, I close my eyes. If the conditions are right —no great danes, flies, mosquitoes, or curious squirrels— this is where water listening can really take off for me. Often, it feels as if the river is flowing right through my mind, in one ear and out the other, taking with it stray thoughts and tension. Sometimes, I feel myself blending with the water, expanding my limited self to make room for all the sounds of the river.

On this particular day, my tree-chair was located at the very tip of a small peninsula formed by the river’s 90-degree bend to the left. I was nearly surrounded by water. On my right, I heard the consistent patter of small rapids. From a bit closer on the right came an occasion thump, like a small drum, as waves came up under the overhanging shoreline. A similar, somewhat louder bass beat came from farther away on the left. Directly in front of me, close in, were higher tones, perhaps tenor, caused by the convergence of small ripples. These ripples formed a crossing pattern on the surface and lapped against each other upon meeting.

Beyond that, back row center, a louder splashing at slight intervals refreshed my memory of the rolling surface with occasional whitecaps I had seen there before closing my eyes. Near me, at left center, there was a barely audible, yet effective, flowing sound provided by a large patch of smooth water. From around the bend to the left came the loudest sound, a gentle roar, as the river entered a series of more turbulent rapids. I sat listening to the overall effect of this water music, letting myself absorb all the individual sounds at once. It’s really easier than you may think to do this; to simply open one’s pores and allow all to flow in. Or, I may choose to select any particular piece of it —whether it be the splashing, the trickling, or the thumping— and focus on that one element. I enjoy switching back and forth between the two approaches.

Also, I have noticed that each sound has a different effect on my mind, and my body. I can sense each “note” in different places. For example, I feel the higher sounds, caused by the small ripples and trickling around logs, in my head, and the thumping sounds, caused by the water hitting the bank, in my chest and solar plexus. Many of the sounds, I believe, have effects in several parts of the body at once. Focusing on these various notes in the river can be very rejuvenating, in ways I don’t need to fully understand in order to benefit from them.

After doing this for a while on this day, I returned to the overall tune, allowing myself to relax further into the river’s melody; to flow as it flowed, to trickle as it trickled, to splash as it splashed. It was somehow beyond listening. A cricket on the bank nearby abruptly chimed in —the new sound startling me from my reverie. Not that it was out-of-place; cricket music fits in most everywhere. I was just so focused on the sound of the water that I was unprepared for land sounds. Yet, it was just as well that the cricket stirred me; it was nearly sundown and I may have stayed until after dark.

Of course, it’s quite possible to listen to water after dark, but on this occasion, I needed to return to camp across the river and fix dinner before the natural light was gone. And fortunately, I could also hear the river —the other side of the river— from my “kitchen”. As I walked back to camp, I thought about the healing quality of water listening. I know there’s something to it. There’s no doubt it’s quite relaxing, yet it’s more than that. Even science can verify this now, with the help of such tools as biofeedback. I’m sure this kind of relaxation is directly related to the release of endorphins in mind and body, the generation of alpha, delta and theta waves, the lowering of blood pressure, and the like. I’ve researched much of this extensively and written about it, but I really don’t need to depend on factual information to know the value of water listening. I have heard it directly from the river —”channeled” from the Source, you might say.