I watch the rain descend
Scattered drops, plunging faithfully to their destiny
Innocence with an explosive end
North Wind must have let out a sigh
The drops have transformed
Scattered flakes, with no weight
Dancing about in their whiteness
No explosion, just water
Seeping into the thawed warm earth
(from my poem “March 21st, 6:15 a.m.” written in 1993)
As I put pen to paper on Bitobi Lake, I see that the tall poplars lining the southeast area of the bay where my cabin sits are predicting rain. The poplars are never wrong, when their leaves turn over in the passing breeze and expose their undersides to the birds and animals and to all the world, you can bet rain is on the way. How much rain? You never know how much water will fall until the rainclouds have come and gone.
I love the rain. I wonder why it is that human beings run like spooked deer to get clear of it when most all other life around us sings in honour of it when they find the blessings of rain are everywhere around them.
Just a few days ago I was watching sheets of rain descending from a dark sky outside the sliding glass door at my camp, when three young rabbits came racing into view. They hopped and leaped, helter skelter in the high grass of the cabin’s front yard. I was greatly impressed with their agility in speed and their graceful maneuvers. And I was certain the rabbits were thoroughly enjoying the damp grass and raindrops pelting down on them, not just in the physical sense but also in that of the spiritual. The spirit of the rain had beckoned to them to enter into it, to cleanse themselves and to play and they were only too happy but to accept the invitation.
The rabbits bounded over raspberry plants and dashed through the daisies, daffodils and goatsbeard scattered around the old wooden swing near the front door. Their fawn coloured fur became chocolate brown, so laden with water it was. Even their whiskers slightly drooped, weighted down with raindrops. The rabbits were the picture of health. Not that I give a damn but I’m sure Walt Disney would agree.
I had a hunch. A day later I was storytelling at a grade school. I asked the five year olds of the kindergarten class if they liked the rain. All shouted in agreement. I asked them if they ever played in the rain and they replied that no, their parents didn’t allow it. All the children said they would if they could.
To walk in the rain and benefit in all realms because of it is a natural thing to do. So why do we not do it? Why do we run from the rain? Have we become that much out of touch with our spiritual beliefs, we no longer care to have rainwater re-invigorating our senses?
Spring rains cleanse, summer rains guarantee a rich harvest, autumn rains are the water which break in nature, before a new understanding about what is purpose of life begins for all who wish to grow in spiritual knowledge and wisdom.
“Do you not know enough to get in out of the rain,” I’ve heard parents scream, when their children ‘soaked to the skin’ appear at the door after being caught in the rain. ‘Getting in out of the rain’ is unnatural to a child. To walk in the rain and let it touch you from head to feet is something refreshing, wonderful and natural. Their spirits signal it to the children as soon as the first raindrops touch them.
The mental and emotional will heal in the rain and the spiritual will grow in knowledge and purpose. Give it a try.