A common activity of mine growing up was playing in creeks. I think I learned a lot from this experience, so much that I often think of little creek anecdotes when considering a given situation.
I’ll collect these thoughts here, see if they are helpful.
The neat thing about playing in a creek is you suddenly have an idea of what a creek is, even tho you probably could not describe it in a specific sense. This extends to rivers.
For instance, did I ever play in the same creek twice?
Well, of course not! I was a child, which meant I wanted to control and manipulate the creek to do what I wanted. I could dam it to create a pool, direct it to erode the sides, cover it in leaves for trapping unsuspecting bears/evil people who might be chasing after me. Normal stuff.
Earlier this evening I was in a redwood forest list by strings of lights, listening as a creek twinkled by.
It’s a brag, but also an observation: creeks have never bothered me with their sound.
At night, if I focus, I can hear all the leaking faucets in the apartments around me. I try not to focus, but that whole switching levels of consciousness thing, ya know? 
The movement of water is chaotic, and the sounds it makes is bliss, as a colorshape.