Thursday, July 24, 2014

July 24, 2014 - Rain Worship


And then the next day, it rained.  How can it be?  If the flowers turn their heads up and yearn earnestly for the sun one day, what shall they do the next when the sun is nowhere to be found?  What shall they worship?  I decided to investigate to find out.  But it confused me.  The mist and the rain was all about.  It was cool and damp and dreary.  Yet when I got to the flowers, they were doing the same thing they did yesterday in the sun.  Their faces were upturned, and they reached their petals high and wide in joyous abandonment.

Again, how can it be?  Don’t they know that the sun, our ultimate energy source in this solar system, is hidden behind a thick veil of impenetrable clouds?  What could they possibly be glorifying?  What is there to lift up toward and sing about?  I asked them directly.  They giggled and laughed, and when they did, tiny water droplets fell from their petals and rang out like tiny little chimes.  “Go to the pond,” is all they would say.

Rain worship.

Anyone who has been reading this journal knows what happened the last time I went to the pond.  I have been avoiding it until I can come up with a plan to meet my ally, but that is for another story.  Yet the flowers had been so insistent that I decided I would go only for a moment.  There was no contact with the fairies this time, but I was able to take this picture.  And there was something there, invisible yet palpable.  In the air.  In my lungs.  On my skin.  Everywhere was water.  Blessed, cool, transforming water.  I pulled up a reed from the bank and tasted a few drops of the rain that dripped from it, and a great feeling of relief washed over me.

Finally, I relaxed.  There will be time enough to figure out my next move.  With a feeling of great calmness and clarity, I was not at all surprised to look up in the tree above me and see a mockingbird, who said, “All things must meet their opposite.”  It might have been odd at any other time, but not at the pond and not in the water.  And certainly not after having tasted the rain.  Ah, the flowers were right again.

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