“My heart trembles from joy; it is raining! I wonder what it is with humans that we thrive for rain after a few sunny days. The desire for contrasts, I would suppose. But how wonderful it feels, how refreshing is the view of washed fields, hills and roads. Only a few days ago, I thought about emotions I lately lack and my thirst for them. Does that thirst explain my joy of seeing gathering dark clouds and drops on the window? Most definitely, it does.”
The wind has been severe since seven in the morning. What a pity, as I was planning on planting Anemones this afternoon. Yet, the massive appearance of the clouds is satisfying at some level. Somewhere deep, I confess that I, as much as the soil, was thirsty for the rain after a few weeks of sunshine. A fascinating idea visited my mind this morning, along with the acceptance of the emotional thirst; the idea was how much do I thrive for contrasts, something I never noticed until the quarantine.
To observe life or even one single day, (because ‘life’ sounds too grand and general), one must witness contrasts of rain and sunshine, of destruction and creation, of charms and plainness.
Meditating about such a simple subject as rain, forcing my mind to flow with the chain of thoughts, the activity I pursued during the last few weeks of the quarantine, left me with a few conclusions. I found they worth sharing merely because they take one's mind and attention previously focused on devastating changes, and turn them into a more positive attitude. The statements, lessons of rain, suggestions of my meditations started with the idea; there would be no observation, no appreciation of deep, vivid colours, if not for contrasts of light and dark. Be it a piece of painting, writing, composed music of old or modern times, be it something that touches one's heart, it obtains shadows and depths of colours. I remember driving one summer day near the field of blooming canola. The sky was dark, about to explode with water, yet the area as a contrast to the clouds exposed itself much brighter than it appeared on a clear sunny day. The hour before or after the rain is full of contradictions. It is the pressure and airiness in the atmosphere. It is on the horizon that is ink blue, and later lavender-pink. It is in sounds of released water, and in the harmony of brooks that run down streets. Much as contrasts of the rainy day that can be witnessed and observed, one can study the distinctions of one's own life. Let me avoid reminding of all the cliches that occupy the Internet. Let me also not teach you, reader, how to study contrasts in your life. Let me only say that because of the contrasts of our current situation, the joy of freedom, the celebration of things we most of the time took for granted, shall be filled with bright colours of the sunset that arrives after the rain.
It is habitual for one to expect rain in spring that later would bring the explosion of colours.
What can be more usual and known better on a subconscious level, but the awareness that spring rains will allow flowers to bloom, and grass to turn green? I say, we live surrounded by nature in some way or another, and connection with familiar, obvious things is unbreakable. We know and watch the change of seasons, and we know that rain eventually stops, and sunshine follows, yet we know these facts most of the time without paying the attention they deserve. Thus, expecting rain in spring because that is the way nature laws are created, we do not argue or deny its essence. As much as we do not deny, but instead, expect and wait for nature acts to be fulfilled when planned, we shall expect and rejoice to receive different times in our days. On no terms, I am trying to support the theory of black and white lines in life where evil exchanges good because it is a logical flow. Nor do I try to convince you to stay positive no matter the trials you are facing. I am merely standing on the idea that expecting a flow of emotions, a rollercoaster of events and believing in blooming flowers after the rain is part of the nature of a human being. After all of this, there would be no flowers if there would be no rain.
Lately, I started questioning myself of why is that when one is sufficiently stable and has no apparent reasons to complain, one’s heart aches for emotions that can be brought from anywhere like dark clouds, or forbidden adventures. My heart indeed ached for such adventures since the fifth week of the quarantine. I desired only one thing, to drive far and long, to escape the desert my mind became, to find the fuel and fire for stories, to find after all the inspiration to wake up every morning. I dare say the condition was not solemnly mine, I dare say many experienced the same feelings. While I was blessed with all necessary and even more things to have comfortable isolation, and barely had to worry about anything as grand as losing a job, or worse as losing a relative, I had an issue of the lack of emotions. That was all, the routine, repetitive one, where I searched for something to make my heart tremble, to push me into the right direction to pursue my dreams. That was why I met the first strong, almost breaking and severe rain with delight. I smelled the breeze coming from the open window. The storm brought emotions. It raised anticipation in my heart for flowers to bloom, for stories to be written, adventures to be yet discovered. The dumping water, its sound on the roof awoke senses that only wake up with the first rain of May.
The next morning the grass in our yard was green. The forest slowly started waking up. The ponds appeared fuller. Then I welcomed the flow of healing, inspiring emotions that something simple, yet so marvellous and miraculous as rain caused.
