There are the days I sit in the rain and listen to the drops. I can hear each by itself, and all of them at once. They each sound distinct- one landing on water, one on dirt, one on cement. The symphony of the raindrops soothes my anxiety.
I could sit forever, alone and unmoving, listening to the rain. Thinking of everything and nothing at once. Hearing everything and nothing at once. Feeling everything and nothing, always.
I never liked meditation. I don’t like to sit still- I’m always trying to outrun my thoughts. I don’t like silence, I don’t like stillness, but I love solitude.
And yet, in the rain, I’m not alone. The whole world is here with me, in the sounds and sights and smells. I feel the moisture in the air, see the fog of my breath. It’s not so bad to be silent when the whole world is talking.
I wish I could sit here forever. I wish I had been born a tree, alone in a forest, part of the world but silent, nothing expected of me except to slowly grow toward the sun.
I wish I
I wish
The cascade of sound is there, banishing my thoughts. They are held at bay with less force than usual. Why do I always run from my thoughts? What am I escaping? Does it hurt? Why?
If I could sit and listen, the only thoughts in my brain would be a reaction to the world. Yet even now I feel the other thoughts tumbling, howling at this barrier of nature. I think I learned too much. I’ve learned too much of myself and the world, and I wasn’t quite ready.
I flew too close to the sun, too close to the sun inside myself, inside humanity. I flew too close and the wax dripped down my arms, my feathers fell like raindrops to the ground.
I learned too much, too soon, and I’m trying to hold it back until I have a chance to catch up.
The rain is a barrier in my mind. I’ve felt that with snow and ice too. I need the cold on my body to stop my mind from thinking. I need the sound of the world to drown out the sound inside.
It’s not bad, knowing too much. It’s sad sometimes, and it’s difficult sometimes, but I don’t regret it. It overwhelms sometimes, but I’ve learned to manage. And when I can’t, I let the world drown everything out.
Sometime I think my body reacts too strongly, my mind gets pulled under a whirlpool of emotion so quickly. What happened to me to make me how I am? Why? I know the answer. I’m not hiding from that. Not anymore. But I wish the overwhelming pieces got easier.
Maybe they do. I get used to it quickly now, I guess it is easier than it was. Poor younger me. It’s no use feeling pity. It’s just reality.
I learned too much, too quickly, and the rain helps soothe it. The wax melting on my arms burns, but the scars tell a story of where I’ve been.
The rain is coming down more strongly now. It’s pounding the earth. Each raindrop is another chance to knock the thoughts right out of my head. There is only me, and the wet, the sounds, the drops and drops and drops. And my brain is quiet.
My brain is like an overeager puppy, always trying to run forward, pulling against the leash. But then the world shows a new surprise and the puppy forgets to pull, to push, just for a moment. It quirks its little head and looks, listens, is silent, calm.
My brain is forgetting to push right now. The calm in the storm. The calm.
I’ve always loved the rain, because it washes the thoughts right out of my head. Tonight, I needed a good deluge.
Fiercely Fluid 