Not far from the heart of Cassville, where trails bend into forest and trout swim in shadowed pools, Roaring River flows steady and strong.

To walk its banks is to feel time loosen its grip, a sensation both familiar and ancient. Visiting there recently, I was reminded of something I’d read about Leonardo da Vinci. Long before he was known as a painter or inventor, he was a watcher of water. He sketched eddies and whirlpools obsessively, convinced that water was more than a force of nature; it was and is a metaphor for life itself.

Always moving. Always shaping. Always becoming.

And, as I listened to the current murmuring and winding through stone and root, I began to wonder: what might this river be saying about the shape of our own lives, here in Cassville?

Leonardo once wrote that water was “the blood of the Earth,” coursing through it with the same vitality and mystery that pulses through the human body. He watched how it curved around obstacles, how it created patterns in motion, and how, no matter how disrupted, it always found a way forward. For him, water was not just a subject of science; it was a mirror of the human spirit.

He believed that by observing its movement, we could understand something deeper about ourselves: that we, too, are shaped by what we flow around, pressed forward by unseen forces, and marked by the bends and pauses in our journey.

Here in Cassville, Roaring River is more than a landmark; it’s a living presence. Families gather along its banks, children skip stones through its shallows, fishers fly, and generations have found peace in its moving rhythms. It is, quite literally, our town’s natural heartbeat.

And, like the water itself, the people of Cassville move with quiet strength. They navigate challenges, economic, generational, even spiritual, not by force, but by persistence. Like the river, they find ways to keep going: shaping their lives around obstacles, nourishing one another, and wearing down even the hardest circumstances with patience and grace. Watching Roaring River, I see not just nature in motion, I see a mirror of the community that surrounds it.

As an English professor at Crowder College, I spend much of my time with young people who are just beginning to chart the course of their own lives. Some are eager to leave, to test their strength in faster waters. Others hope to stay near home, to build a future rooted in familiar soil. I see in all of them a yearning, not just for financial success, but for soulful purpose to better their fellow human, to become servants for the greater good.

I often wonder: what would it take for more of them to see Cassville not just as a place to begin, but as a place worth returning to? The answer, I think, lies not in promising them certainty, but in helping them recognize the treasure that’s already here. In Roaring River’s ceaseless flow, in the quiet heroism of everyday neighbors, in the slow but steady shaping of something meaningful, there is the foundation of a hope-filled future.

Leonardo believed that water, though soft and yielding, was powerful enough to shape mountains. He saw in its motion a quiet majesty, a reminder that persistence, not force, is what truly transforms the world. As I contemplated the deep spring basin that is Roaring River’s cavernous unknown, I am overcome with awe, elevating the pastoral setting to reverence.

The translucence of the springs’ radiance reflects the green folds of Barry County, casting an aura of hope and joy, and peace. It shows me a place already shaped by generations of care, resilience, and rooted belonging that has a future as grand as the depths of the fathoms below.

Cassville is a community still becoming. What might America’s Real Hometown’s future look like if we embraced the river’s example? If we moved forward with intention, welcomed new currents, and trusted that even slow waters carve lasting paths?

Cassville is not finished, not fully formed, still being refined by the fluidity of its citizenry and nature’s boundless cathedral. Like the river that runs through it, Cassville flows toward possibility…and the shape of what’s to come is ours to imagine.

Terry Held is an English instructor at Crowder College, Cassville. The views expressed in this column are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of Crowder College. He would appreciate hearing what you think. He can be reached at TerryHeld@Crowder.edu.