Listening to the poetry of rain

I’ve lived with rain for much of the year over this past decade in Seattle, but I had to leave it to actually hear it.

Beautiful pouring water from the skies, blanketing this sunny hamlet into quiet repose.   The soft trickle of droplets on the payment, splashing puddles as cars passed by,  a silent mist enveloped the beach.

I spent the day in reflection and connection to the rain as if I was praying at the temple of the water goddess.

Being bathed from above in a baptism of nature, it was effortless for me to go within and contemplate.

The water brought forth a feminine energy to the masculine sun  that shines so often.  The yin came to balance the yang.

The effects are still lasting:  people spending time indoors, deep rich coffee being savored, dampness  kissing the air.

I remember having such reverence for the rain when I first moved to Seattle.  How it seemed to make the dark green of the forests blend in harmony with the deep blues of the water against a flat gray sky.

But like anyone living in any place for a long time, you acclimate to the weather, take it for granted, even curse it when it gets redundant.

The pedestrians on the streets I did see had umbrellas and raincoats to insulate them from what the Northwest would consider a ‘misting’.  I wanted to go up to each person and whisper, “It’s ok to let the rain in”.

Instead, I stood out in the open myself, letting my face be cleansed , allowing me to see and hear this message from the sky.

This rain day has served as a profound reminder of just how much I truly appreciate (and even thrive) in an overcast climate.

Water, water everywhere, and all the drops I gladly drink!

Photo credit.