When the Waters Rise: Finding Clarity in Chaos

Nicasio Creek runs through Nicasio Creek Farm—end to end. Over the past two and a half months, I have watched my little creek change in response to the forces of nature.

The creek has become a living metaphor. A book of wisdom about adaptation, change, and letting go – amidst the inevitable storms.

Most of the time, my creek is a peaceful trickle, its waters clear and steady.

When a storm arrives, it becomes something entirely different—wild, unpredictable, and powerful. It rushes, erodes old banks, and forces itself into unfamiliar terrain.

Storms disrupt what we know. They take us out of what’s familiar and into high alert.

My creek looks uncomfortable when it begins to surge. I am uncomfortable when surges happen too.

Yet, my creek doesn’t resist the change—it embraces the surge. It swells and rises higher, churning with silt and debris. It becomes chaotic, impossible to see through.

When faced with life’s storms, I feel the same way. Emotions flood in, tossing me turbulently, leaving me overwhelmed and unclear.

But no matter how full and turbulent it becomes, my creek keeps moving. It carries the energy downstream, beyond what is visible.

When the rain stops, it takes a few hours, but the creek always begins to calm.

The water levels drop, it settles, and clarity returns.

Just like the creek, in time, life settles after storms too. The clarity always returns.

Whether you are a creek or a human, survival isn’t about resisting the surging currents. It’s about embracing them, tossing and turning with the turbulent energy, and ultimately using them to move downstream to new pastures (pun intended).

Storms show how powerful forces reshape us. My creek doesn’t just return to how it was before a storm—it becomes something new. The rushing water carves deeper channels, scours away weak banks, and strengthens its foundation.

We don’t simply return to who we were before a challenge—we grow into something new.

Storms remind us that turbulence and chaos are forms of renewal. Surging floodwaters clear away debris and make space for new possibilities. Challenges in our lives are the same —hardship strips away the unnecessary leaving behind clarity about what truly matters.

During big storms, my creek walks a fine line. Too much force, and its banks crumble; just enough, and it reshapes beautifully. As humans, we navigate the same fine line—holding on and letting go, control and surrender.

This season has not brought normal storms. Northern California’s reservoirs are already at 123% capacity in early February. The sheer volume of water has transformed landscapes, filled reservoirs, and reminded us of nature’s unpredictable power.

The world is also currently showing “unpredictable power."

Not only are the creek’s lessons worth remembering, but how the farm handles unprecedented storms has also taught me invaluable lessons.

This property is a partnership—an intentional and harmonious weaving of human effort with the natural world.

We do not, and cannot, stop the voluminous water cascading down from the nearby mountains.

Instead, we steer it strategically—with culverts, twists and turns, large boulders, and tree roots.

This land was designed to work with the elements rather than against them. We have side creeks, waterfalls, and carefully placed outflow pockets that work in synergy to accommodate nature’s unpredictability. The groundwater is captured by our wells for future use and it helps nourish fertile soil.

We can set ourselves up intentionally and strategically to respond to life’s storms with sustainability and strength. Having robust “systems” for handling inevitable challenges makes a big difference in our ability to weather what comes our way.

Mindfulness and coaching have allowed me to absorb the surges of this season’s storms—both those caused by nature and by human experience.

As I stand by my creek this morning, watching the water recede and settle once more, I am reminded: the storm always passes, the path reveals itself, and like the creek, I—and we—will find our way forward.

Nature has a way of teaching us what we need most—if we take the time to watch and listen.

My little creek has taught me to embrace change, to trust that turbulence is temporary, and to recognize the power of flow, even in the churn and turbulence.

The lesson of the creek: let go, trust the current, and know that after the storm, clarity and sparkle always return.

-2025, All rights reserved Jessie Mahoney