In deep waters: How Flow illuminates our need for connection

"We're all just walking each other home." - Ram Dass

Flow, an award-winning and much-nominated 2024 animated film (streaming on Max), is the journey of a slender black cat who navigates a flooded world.

Throughout the 90-minute film, the cat encounters various animals who become his friends, companions, saviors, and obstacles. Unlikely friendships have a way of quickly burrowing into the most tender areas of the heart.

There's something so special and beautifully simple about witnessing the unfolding of a story, without the presence of words or humans. Through body language, gestures, and noises from the different creatures, we inhabit their experience of a water-filled world that's gorgeous, yet unforgiving.

In times of tumult and disorientation, it can be easy to get lost in a black hole of our own, whether social media feeds or prolonged isolation.

When we're cut off from others, we're more vulnerable to the dangers of prolonged stress. It's easy to lose hope when it feels like we're drifting solo through chaos.

In an individualist culture like the United States, we often get messages to "go inward" or withdraw in order to care for our tender feelings and emotions. I know I'm guilty of this!

While there's definitely a need for that type of recuperation, I wonder if we too often forget the healing power of togetherness. The gentle presence of someone being with us in a tough moment. Holding our hand as we're battling difficult emotions.

Animals, in their embodied wisdom, know that healing happens in community.

I can't think of anything that represents aliveness more than showing up to be with the ones we love.

Some of the most moving scenes in Flow are of connection and disconnection. The push and pull I feel so often in life—to go my own way, and the other impulse to find my way back.

For the creatures in the film, connection happened when they lay next to each other. When they worked together to bring a wayward companion back into the fold. Even without words, they sensed the importance of one another. There was a natural inclination, deeply encoded, to say come back. Be with us. We want you here.

And then the moments of disconnection. The "I want to eat you" and "I don't want to be eaten" moments. The moments of misunderstanding or competing interests. Disconnection often arises when we're scared. When faced with a stranger or foreign situation, it's often easy to flee. To get away to a place of safety.

I often reflect on and wonder about why we're all on this planet, in this universe, floating through a seemingly endless, vast expanse. What's the point? Why am I here?

The older I get, the more I'm convinced the purpose is as simple as Ram Dass's quote about walking each other home.

To be known fully and accepted for who we are is the most meaningful gift we can give and receive. When we're seen for who we are, by another, there's a blossoming that takes place. An expansive permission to be more of ourselves, to show up, to step into an often scary world with a bit more courage.

Consider the fellow travelers in your own life. The people who have or continue to come alongside you. Reach out to one person this week, to connect or reconnect. To offer simple laughter, a listening ear, or a word of consolation.

It's the balm we all need. It's why we're here.