Ten Drops of Rain

I gently woke up this morning to the chirping of sodden birds and the tapping drizzle of December rain on my window and balcony. Ah, what a luscious sleep it had been! The rain makes me smile today. Strange, right? After all this seemingly endless darkness one would think that a grey day would be a dagger to my heavy winter soul, but no, the rain is beautiful. I'm instantly showered in its tranquility. The world is good. This feeling reminds me of something that I wrote in 11th or 12th grade English class, while reading works for the transcendentalists of northern America; Emerson, Thoreau, Muir... I haven't read many of my high-school papers in years, but sometimes I find inspiration or solace in them. The memory of this paper serves as a bit of a reference point as to where I was 4 years ago, where I am today.

Much has changed, but much has not. I've seen myself develop from an absorber and observer, through a small rebellious phase and out of that darkness (thank god!) to a moderate acceptor and appreciator. I've reveled in nature for as long as I can remember, and though sometimes the circumstances of my roller coaster of a life were not conducive in the slightest to my growth and connection to nature, I think that I've always harbored the desire for it.

 When my parents were in the midst of their divorce, I was often in immigration offices, courtrooms, spending weekends with people I never got to know, in strange cars, etc. and so thoughts of my dad's little vegetable garden and the neighboring flock of sheep at the edge of the forest was a rock for me, as were the redwood forests of Mill Valley when my mom and stepdad were in their direst financial crisis. I'd spend hours avoiding conflict in the embrace of the eucalyptus and pine. My time in Hawaii has predominantly been spent outside, and I've grown accustomed to refusing to accept the walls of my house, speaking with the stars every night and ignoring the concerned looks from passing neighbors who bore witness to my "unusual" habit of laying sprawled out in the communal grass with my focus on the cosmos.

It's a bit difficult now that I'm in a colder place. I miss that freedom of just stepping outside at any given hour and letting the universe pull me into a soul-warming hug, without the consequence of freezing. I accept that that's how it is here, and see no reason to complain, but I do miss it. I think the most challenging aspect of winter is that I develop an unquenchable inner fear that Nature is slipping away from me, that this death and grey and cold is permanent and that the warm winds and summer skies are but a memory. I know that's not the case, and it will all become more accessible. This is where the work is, in assuring myself that there is still an abundance good and beauty, and that I need to seek it out in more creative ways. In the meantime, I can bask in moonshine and starlight, lose myself in the geometry of snowflakes and ice crystals, hopefully find the Northern lights and catch glimpses of reindeer...

Maybe that's why something like the faint and sporadic plops of rain of my window make me smile today. Nature is still all around and I'm not afraid of losing it. This time feels as appropriate as any to share my essay from a few years ago. Things do happen in circles... Here it is:

Julia DeHoff

English-Stock

Due: 9/3/10

Nature Poem/ Emerson Writing

Ten Drops of Rain

Sitting and Listening;

they come, the ten drops, 

no, twenty drops, 

infinite drops of rain. 

Slipping from the humid skies

like unexpected visitors 

at my door. 

I open my shutters,

my eyes,

and see the ashen dome above, 

bleached against the stretching coal 

by the tens, 

no, hundreds,

millions of stars above.

The drops, they come

as if predestined to land

in each precise place

that they do.

Cold and animated;

 Feeling their slippery, cleansing,

smoothing out 

the thirstiness of all life.

Ten drops on my head, 

twenty on my hand,

one hundred 

on my soul. 

Sprawled, submitting to the power

of nature;

lame against the mighty.

Greening the valley,

drilling the soil, 

falling onto tongues

like melting crystals.

Where do they come from,

these ten drops of rain?

So quietly occupying

the night.

Marching across Hercules,

in pattering boots

to where?

The twenty-man army

purrs 

and whispers its prayer,

leaving its successor 

an aroma 

and pure silence.

Ten drops of rain come

and go.

Wherefrom, whereto,

why?

I'll never know.

But I will see,

I will hear,

Ten drops of rain on my window.

I will taste,

I will smell,

I will touch,

Twenty drops of rain on my body.

I will listen, 

I will accept,

I will love,

I will hold,

Infinite drops of rain on my soul.

   Rain is a mysterious phenomenon of nature. Like most elements of life, it works in an ongoing cycle. Evaporation, condensation, rain, nourishment, heat, repeat. Water is a necessity.

It streams from the skies, enriching the soil, filling wells and glasses, cleaning off the industrial residue of dust and grime from the streets and the backs of humans. It purges, cleanses the physical, and emotional aspects of nature. Just as the sky is able to release its load, humans can release their stress and contempt. A rainfall can wash away discriminations, and if even for a moment, leave one lucid and sage. Rain will fall, from the sky to the ground. The laws of physics prove that this cycle is endless. It is one of nature's limbs, the windshield-wiper and the scale. When humans experience rain, they often associate it with sadness or lack of life. On the contrary, I find contentment in rain. It brings a peace, an understanding that surprises me, an acceptance of all of natures elements, and events. Watching or feeling rain gives me the feeling of being wise, as if I knew the meaning of life. But maybe that is the meaning, living each day in contentment, or striving to absorb each day with a sponge of contentment. A rainfall will balance me, put me at ease, and reconnect me with the idea that nature is one, life is one, it is all.