While I was recently in New Zealand, I noticed how my friend, Hayden, would rinse a dish, scrub it with soap, and then leave it to dry. This is different from how I wash dishes back home. He explained that the island has a water shortage. They rely on rainwater but they also rely on each other’s careful use of it. At a campsite we stayed at, the showers cost one dollar for four minutes of fresh water. There were also signs hung up around the camp reminding guests to be mindful of their water usage.

When I was a kid, I was encouraged not to let the water run too long because water costs money. The water that came from our faucet felt like ours because we paid for it. But isn’t that an illusion?

We rarely think about where our water comes from, if we even think about it at all. It’s easy to forget that all freshwater flows from the same sources. The chemicals in our cleaning products and cosmetics don’t just disappear when they swirl down the drain. Those chemicals return to another shared pool that affects other wildlife. When we lose that awareness, we lose touch with the fact that water, like so many resources, is interconnected and communal. 

Hayden’s habits reflect that understanding. I’m sure that not every person in New Zealand is as mindful as he is, but his mindfulness in small, daily acts extends towards the people around him, too. Our habits shape who we become, and how connected we feel to the world around us. Although it would be less “convenient,” I wonder how differently we would live if we had to fetch our water from a stream everyday, if we saw our friends and neighbors gather at the same place to collect water for their families too.

It made me think of an experience I had years ago, when I was discerning religious life as a nun. While I was at a conference in South Korea, I shared a hotel room with one of the sisters. One night while she was showering, I could hear her repeatedly turning the water on and off. Curious, I asked her why she did that. She smiled and said, “It’s all of our water.”

Her words have stayed with me, inspiring me to look at water differently. Showering is something we usually do on autopilot, maybe with an effort to not linger for too long – even if there isn’t a “shortage.” But for her, it wasn’t just about saving water. It was about relationship. Her small, intentional act was like a prayer. It was a meaningful reminder that our lives are woven together in ways we often overlook. Just because we don’t see where the water comes from doesn’t mean that we can’t use it mindfully.

Staying present is an act of resistance to our current systems. Staying in the present moment rather than giving into our worries about the past or future helps us notice, respond, and make choices that honor the interconnectedness of all things. Water isn’t a commodity. Water is precious and it’s shared. Water is life!

What if we lived like we truly believed that?