I am blessed to be able to spend the holidays in Easton, Maryland with my family, where we spend our time in a beautiful home along the Tred Avon River, just off of the Chesapeake Bay.

Our stretch of the Tred Avon River is quite reflective. As you look over the water from our small dock, you see what lies above it; the trees all around, a dam to the left, and a small stretch of highway straight ahead. At first glance, the water perfectly imitates its surroundings. But look closer, and you’ll notice that the water has placed its own unique touch on the image it reflects.

Everything close to the river uses it for some purpose. The wildlife, most obviously, uses the water as a means for nourishment. To the birds, it is a source of food. To the fish beneath, the water is as omnipresent as air around us. Even the trees use the water for oxygen.

In exchange for its help, each influence leaves something behind for the river to work with. The herons, eagles, and geese leave ripples as they dive in and fly away, the trees drop small portions of their leaves and branches, and so on with everything else nearby.

The River paints with a unique brush in a way that nothing else could. The photographer who captures a perfect image of the trees would not be able to depict the beauty of the water’s continuous distortion. The same goes for the cinematographer, for even though they could show the water as it flows, eventually the film would have to stop. The river, on the other hand, persists. So even though the water is a reflection of its surroundings, it flows continuously in the way that only it can.

As individuals, we ought to strive to be like water. We may have our influences, but these are not the sources of our creativity, for we paint with our own brushes. Although we are in many ways the average of all of our influences, we are still ourselves at the end of the day. Our uniqueness persists, no matter how much we water it down.