There’s something magickal about the rain because even though the physics of rain are always the same–condensation being released from the clouds–rain has many different moods. There is the soft, warm rain of a summer evening that’s like a lover’s caress; there’s the angry, howling rain of thunderstorms, there’s the cold rain that chills your very bones, and then there’s the soft sprinkle that teases you with a few drops here and there. My mother nicknamed me Rainey when I was little as a derivative of Lorraine and the name fits as I’ve always loved a good rain.
Snuggling up under a blanket and watching the rain pour down has to be one of the most sublimely comforting experiences in the world. It was raining this morning and I snuggled down into the blankets and listened for a while before the alarm went off. The rhythmic pounding of the rain on the windows sent my mind wandering as I thought about other rainstorms and about the power the weather still has over us in this modern era.
Living on Okinawa, we were subject to the whims of the weather gods and at least three times a year, a typhoon would hit the island and we’d have to batten down the hatches and stay indoors for a few days. I loved typhoons as there was such a sense of wonderment in watching the clouds twist and turn and listening to the rain and the wind. I always felt safe nestled in my little concrete house built to withstand ‘phoons. We’d snuggle up on the couch, watch old movies, and listen to the rain and the wind howl around us. When the eye of the storm passed over us, we’d go outside and stand in the deathly still looking up at the clouds and waiting for the storm to start again. The eye of the storm is one of the most magickal places on earth as you’re surrounded on all sides by the wild force of nature, yet the one place you’re standing is still. I’ve been outside when the typhoon started up again and all of a sudden the winds whipped from zero degrees to 140 miles per hour and the sheer force of the storm is awe inspiring to feel.
Typhoons aren’t the forte of the Midwest, but the flat praries have their own wild weather. We live in an area that is prone to tornadoes and the weather right before a tornado can have its own deathly magick. Several years ago we were living in central Illinois and a hellacious thunderstorm kicked up its heels. I stood outside on the porch and watched the water and wind whip around in a symphony of destruction. My husband tried to pull me in the house, but I was mesmerized by the fireworks of nature. Funnel clouds formed and danced close to the earth before retracting into the clouds. The storm was one of the most destructive of the year, but all I could think about was the wild beauty swirling around me.
Another memorable trip to Asia inspired the plea for bliss that I wrote about in my very first blog entry. Although I’m sure my traveling companions didn’t think the day was so magickal, in fact most of them wanted to leave a lot earlier than we did, I thought a day spent touring ancient China in the rain was very magical. There was something wonderous about seeing pagodas and other ancient structures through the haze of rain and the rain inspired us to seek shelter in a tea house along with other folks seeking shelter and there was something cozy about sitting in the dilapated structure watching the rain fall down around us.
Gene Kelly wasn’t the only one who liked dancing in the rain. There’s something liberating and creative about dancing through the puddles in a warm summer rain. The air feels magickly charged (probably all the negative ions) and with every rain drop, the energy flows through you and you feel alive with all the possibilities the world has to offer.
The world feels so clean and new after a good rain as if it alive with all the possiblities that life has to offer. There is nothing quite so blissful as life after a good rain.
Cairn by Cairn 