It might seem obvious. Other people say you need a river. Your parents tell you, your friends tell you, your dog even tells you. You read books and listen to songs about how important rivers are. You might agree.

You even tell other people they need rivers. But you won't listen. Not to others, not to yourself, not to songs. Until you have to.

2. "Dig a trench."

This won't be easy. You sweat. It hurts. Your hands burn. But you dig the trench. Once you start building a river, you can't stop. You determine the length and width, for fear of digging forever.

Many are known to get stuck digging. That is a terrible existence. A bottomless pit some claim leads to another land. That's not true. It leads to nothing.

3. "Rain."

When the trench is complete, you need rain. At first, you try making it yourself.

You cry. And cry. And cry. It hurts to cry so much, which makes you cry more. You think you have enough tears to fill the river. You don't. None of us do. Pain does not make a river.

When you can't make rain, you find new ways to get water. Some ask for rain, gathering it drop by drop. They collect with cupped hands until it overflows, then use buckets. This method takes decades, but it works for some.

Others seek rain from the heavens. They pray for it, sacrifice for it, ache for it. Some give others rain, hoping to fill their own river.

There is no right way to get rain. You must decide for yourself how you'll go about it.

4. "Move the water."

Your trench is full of rain but motionless. This is not good enough. If your water does not move, you haven't built a river. How will you get anywhere without currents? This part is, thankfully, easier than gathering rain.

First, find something to stir your river. Some use plants that bend with the current, some use rigid sticks, and others use their hands. You might stir longer than others, and it can feel as though you are trudging through mud that pulls you deeper and deeper.

It's important to stir only as fast as you can handle, or else risk your river overflowing, which is difficult to fix.

5. "Clean the river."

You've stirred the river and it's flowing at a decent speed. Yet, there are pieces of driftwood and knotting, tangled weeds. There are kind fish, little ones with shimmering scales and gentle eyes. Then there are fish with bony spines, sharp teeth, and wicked intentions. Remove the wicked fish, leave the others.

There's one way to tidy a river. Wade in and pick it up, piece by piece. Use your hands to yank weeds and remove clumps of mud. No river stays clean forever, but it's a good start.

6. "Build a raft."

The river is flowing, with teams of rainbow-scaled fish and wildflowers sprouting on either side. Now put it to use. You need a raft. Or boat, or yacht, or any seafaring device that suits your needs.

Find suitable materials in your area. Even if you have a fast river, you'll want some way to direct your craft. Create oars or a makeshift sail.

Using a sail exclusively relinquishes your control. Oars are more precise but can be dashed against rocks veiled by murky water. Some use a combination of both, and others succumb to the flow of the river. It's up to you how to construct the raft, but you must do so to venture beyond your river.

7. "Sail."

Don't be discouraged if this doesn't work initially. The raft may leak, you perhaps picked a vessel that's too large, the river is too fast, or the driftwood hasn't been removed.

Tether the raft, climb on and go. Until then, you won't know if it'll work. Repeat steps six and seven until you achieve success. It might take one try, or ninety-nine. Don't give up. You're nearly to the end.

8. "Find other people's rivers."

You've stabilized your river and raft. There is no one telling you what to be or where to go. Float to rivers, pick up debris that has gathered, offer words of advice.

Some are so thankful they cry. Others are so angry they throw rocks. They have such immense momentary pain, they can't appreciate your kindness. They'll understand one day.

9. "Maintain your river."

It seems like all the work is done, but it isn't. A river isn't something you make and leave be. Wicked fish invade, people throw waste in the water, you'll spend too much time visiting other rivers.

This is discouraging, but you've done the hard parts. Now take care of your river.

You give it all the love it requires, and are rewarded. The sun dips below your river, melting into it in shades of violet. Your muscles unwind. You breathe clear air and dew.