Sweeping water

I spent some time in northern Thailand during rainy season. After each downpour let up, the locals would take to the flooded streets, straw brooms in hand, and begin to sweep the water. This perplexed me at first, it seemed so futile. Why sweep water?

Well, I'm not entirely sure. I don't speak Thai very well, and I dare not interrupt their diligent public service.

But here's what I suspect: they're not sweeping the water.

The surface of the water is all we see. But just underneath, there's sediment, leaves, litter, and other debris. And underneath that resides a plugged-up gutter. That's why we have a flooded street. We can't see the clogged gutter, but we know that after enough sweeps, the gutter will be clear and whoosh, the water's gone. We can now cross the street without drenching our feet.

Sometimes our efforts feel like sweeping water. They're uncertain, repetitive, have few immediate results and yield no clear signals of progress. We might not always get a satisfying whoosh at the end, but at some point, the murky water will be gone and forgotten.