Until several years ago … rain was grief; rain was depressive; rain was cold; rain was tears; rain was deep pain; rain was — crippling memories. Dismal. Brooding. Dark. Fearful.
Moving to Oregon and living in our motorhome for a year and half, the rain transformed into something else. It was the rhythmic and playful moods that danced on the roof, creating a soothing sound that enhanced sleep. It was warmer rain, glorious rain, nurturing rain. The endless sound of the river became a symphony when rain gusted.
And Sebastian, my Willow, ragged as he was then, still danced. If my damaged Tree could dance, and then glitter when the sun touched the slivers of leaves … why couldn’t I?
I learned the rain did not diminish me. Instead, it offered hope, and courage, and strength and music. It gave permission to shed tears, acknowledging the old and deep grief, and it shared the transformations that occur during and after the cleansing downpour of those perfect waterdrops.
It is renewal. It is a re-awakening. Every moment of every day … we can do that. This is infinity. The cycle, The ever-restless motion of the tides, the relentless cycle of our Earth spinning into darkness and lightness and darkness and lightness. It is drinking deeply of the darkness, the mysterious inner worlds, while gazing towards the incomprehensible vastness of our sky.
Finally, it is not just believing, but knowing, really knowing, that with me and within me .. exists the universe.
…. with love <3