Have you ever noticed the rain? I mean really watched her? When was the last time, as a child? As an adult?
What did you notice? The last time you ‘got caught in it’ what did you do? Did you run to where you were
going? Where you worried about your hair, your new outfit, those nice shoes? Or do you raise your face a bit
upward to greet it, relaxing your whole body to receive its cleansing energy?
I love to watch the rain, preferably from outside. I like to round up all of my senses for the celebration, calling
forth each and every one to pay close attention to the smallest detail.
Rain has a miraculous way of mixing her fragrance with whatever she mingles with, conjuring dark musk,
heady blossoms, and even sweet asphalt. Everything she touches she colors differently, like millions upon
millions of brushes adding washes of richer, deeper hues to it all. I love to watch the greens of the trees and
plants become more vibrant, lush, as if there is a newness spread across every surface, and a promise of new
beginnings, new life, gifted to everything.
Raindrops are like moments. You can look up and watch one individual one fall, and when you do, it is as if
time is standing still. Yet, we often don’t notice the individual moments, and mark our time by larger events.
We notice how we got wet from the downpour, but forget that gentle kiss on our eyelid from that individual
drop.
I have been known to spontaneously take off my shoes and dance in the rain. I sing to her, breath her deep
into my lungs, and try to absorb her lessons deep within my soul.
But my favorite thing is to listen to her. Did you ever notice that when she drops on the earth, a leaf, a car
hood, the pavement, a rooftop, or your upturned face, each and every drop sings a different sound? Consider
how each sound can never be repeated in the same pattern, the same measure, the same score….
Is it unfathomable to consider the possibility that Mother Earth creates these songs, these symphonies as a
tribute, a celebration of life, knowing that we rely on these vital rains to survive?
I don’t think it is. In fact I choose to keep my front row seats for the concert. And if you happen to find yourself
blessed to be front row center at the next chorus, and you happen to be wearing those shoes that you really
would rather not get wet- take them off, and put them under your arm. Your toes will thank you for it.
Oh, and could someone please tell me who started that nonsensical expression “They are someone who does
not have enough sense to come in out of the rain?” because it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me…..
"A steady, windriven rain composes music for the psyche. It not only nurtures and renews, it consecrates and
sanctifies. It whispers in secret languages about the primordial essence of things."
-Tom Robbins
What did you notice? The last time you ‘got caught in it’ what did you do? Did you run to where you were
going? Where you worried about your hair, your new outfit, those nice shoes? Or do you raise your face a bit
upward to greet it, relaxing your whole body to receive its cleansing energy?
I love to watch the rain, preferably from outside. I like to round up all of my senses for the celebration, calling
forth each and every one to pay close attention to the smallest detail.
Rain has a miraculous way of mixing her fragrance with whatever she mingles with, conjuring dark musk,
heady blossoms, and even sweet asphalt. Everything she touches she colors differently, like millions upon
millions of brushes adding washes of richer, deeper hues to it all. I love to watch the greens of the trees and
plants become more vibrant, lush, as if there is a newness spread across every surface, and a promise of new
beginnings, new life, gifted to everything.
Raindrops are like moments. You can look up and watch one individual one fall, and when you do, it is as if
time is standing still. Yet, we often don’t notice the individual moments, and mark our time by larger events.
We notice how we got wet from the downpour, but forget that gentle kiss on our eyelid from that individual
drop.
I have been known to spontaneously take off my shoes and dance in the rain. I sing to her, breath her deep
into my lungs, and try to absorb her lessons deep within my soul.
But my favorite thing is to listen to her. Did you ever notice that when she drops on the earth, a leaf, a car
hood, the pavement, a rooftop, or your upturned face, each and every drop sings a different sound? Consider
how each sound can never be repeated in the same pattern, the same measure, the same score….
Is it unfathomable to consider the possibility that Mother Earth creates these songs, these symphonies as a
tribute, a celebration of life, knowing that we rely on these vital rains to survive?
I don’t think it is. In fact I choose to keep my front row seats for the concert. And if you happen to find yourself
blessed to be front row center at the next chorus, and you happen to be wearing those shoes that you really
would rather not get wet- take them off, and put them under your arm. Your toes will thank you for it.
Oh, and could someone please tell me who started that nonsensical expression “They are someone who does
not have enough sense to come in out of the rain?” because it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me…..
"A steady, windriven rain composes music for the psyche. It not only nurtures and renews, it consecrates and
sanctifies. It whispers in secret languages about the primordial essence of things."
-Tom Robbins
The Song of Rain, acrylic on canvas, 24 x 48
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