04 Apr, 2016

Rain, Cherished Rain

04 Apr, 2016

Rain falls. Spring rains, beneficent rains. And I intend to be grateful and thankful, even with their raw, 30 degree backdrop.

I recall my friend, Anne’s meditative journey/dream to Rain. In it, Rain – a being; Rain like a character in Earth’s novel. And she – for surely Rain must be a ‘she’ – was distraught at the many denigrating metaphors that accompanied her. You know them: Rainy days and Mondays always get me down; Grey skies are gonna’ clear up! (Put on a happy face!); Into each life a little rain must fall.

And she grgrass.drops.water.country2_Cepolina siteieved over how she is treated as an object that we command – Come now, water my garden; Stay away on my wedding day – as all the while we despoil the clouds from where her quickening drops fall with noxious gases from our smokestacks and tailpipes.

If, as Quantum Physics has proven, all of creation is energy, then it’s not too far a leap to imagine Rain as a being – an animate life force. And then, how insensitive and cruel will we have been with our vilifying sentiments about her. And if we carry this logic –or sentient-thinking – just a bit farther, we will realize the tragedy of our thinking. Because Rain – water – is the life force of the planet.

I am reminded of a walk I took in the woods last July. As with many occasions in nature, I found myself writing prose to the cadence of my steps:

Rain decides to accompany me on my walk in the woods today. And I notice all of nature continues to go about its business in the steady supply of her raindrop kisses. Birds sing jubilantly and fly from limb to limb undaunted; leaves spring up and down as if being tickled. I’d swear in the wild wood, everything seems a bit bolstered, grateful even, for this life-giving essence.

Miles from home, I surrender to the idea of becoming soaked on the trail. I decide too to sing my gratitude to Rain, thinking of Topanga and her parched landscape,Soft Ireland thinking of Ireland whose wet abundance yields green hued-hills nowhere else seen.

Rain must hear our praises, for her joyful purge gains strength. Invigorated, I sing louder – words of apology for the many times I used dark skies and rainy days as metaphors for something unpleasant and calamitous. And our rising dance of relationship lingers for many minutes. It is a cleansing. I feel forgiven, my thoughtless transgressions washed clean.

Rain falls. Spring rains, beneficent rains. And I intend to be grateful and thankful. ###

© Jennifer Comeau, 2016.

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