There Are Rivers in the Sky
by Irvine Nugent
There Are Rivers in the Sky
Book Author: Eilf Shafek
Why Does It Matter?
Every once in a while, I come across a book that doesn’t just tell a story—it flows through me. Elif Shafak’s There Are Rivers in the Sky is one of those rare novels.
It follows three very different lives: Zaleekhah, a lonely hydrologist in modern-day London, Arthur a boy from 19th-century England and Narin, a modern-day Yazidi girl from Turkey. At first, you wonder how these stories could possibly connect. But as the book unfolds, you begin to sense a deeper current running through them all—grief, memory, displacement, and the unending human longing to belong.
Reading it, I couldn’t help but think about how often we try to control life’s currents—how we dam up our emotions, or pretend we’re not affected by the flow of events around us. As a coach and facilitator, I see it all the time: leaders trying to hold it all together while quietly being swept under by everything they’re carrying.
Shafak reminds us that flow, not control, is what keeps us alive. When we stop fighting the current and start listening to it, something shifts. We begin to understand not just our own emotions, but the emotional undercurrents that shape the people and systems around us.
My Key Insights
Emotions are rivers—they need to move.
One of the most striking themes in the novel is that what we resist doesn’t go away—it builds pressure. The characters who try to suppress their grief or anger become stuck. But those who let emotion flow find release, clarity, and connection.
In emotional intelligence work, that’s what we call emotional regulation. It’s not about pushing feelings down—it’s about learning to ride the current safely. In teams, the same applies: if conflict is avoided, it doesn’t disappear; it just changes form. I’ve worked with enough organizations to know that what isn’t expressed eventually leaks out—inside jokes, quiet resentment, or a well-timed email “reply all.”
Connection depends on remembering.
Each of Shafak’s characters is an archivist in their own way—keeping memories, words, or traditions alive. And that struck me: we all have emotional archives.
In conflict, these archives come alive. We carry memories of past interactions—times we weren’t heard, times trust was broken. Those old stories shape how we interpret what’s happening now. Developing emotional intelligence means asking, “What story am I remembering—and is it still serving me?”
When we remember with compassion, not judgment, we find empathy—for ourselves and for others.
Beauty and pain coexist.
Shafak’s writing is breathtakingly beautiful, even when she’s describing suffering. It reminded me of a truth I’ve seen again and again: growth and discomfort are travel companions.
In my work with leaders, I often see the most powerful transformations happen in moments of tension. When a team dares to name the hard truth or when a leader admits, “I don’t know, but I’m willing to learn,” something sacred happens. The river moves again.
How Can I Use This?
Pause before reacting.
When tension rises—whether in a meeting or at home—imagine your emotions as a river. Where is it flowing? What’s blocking it? That image alone can help you slow down and choose curiosity over reactivity.
Look beneath the surface.
In any conflict, the visible disagreement is just the surface current. Beneath it are deeper emotional streams—fear, frustration, fatigue, or the need to be seen. The next time you sense friction, ask: “What’s really happening underneath this?” That’s where empathy begins.
Lead with presence, not perfection.
Shafak’s characters live in uncertainty, and so do we. Emotional intelligence isn’t about having the right answer—it’s about staying steady in the flow. When you say, “Let’s figure this out together,” you open the door for others to step in rather than shut down.
There’s a line in the book that stayed with me: “The river remembers everything.”
So do we. The emotions we don’t face don’t disappear—they just go underground. Whether in leadership or life, the challenge is to listen to the hidden rivers, to honor what they carry, and to let them guide us back toward connection.