Singing in the Rain

It has been raining non-stop for the last 48 hours.  Seems Mother Nature wants to remind us that sunshine isn’t her only game.  Lucky for me, the feeling of being socked in is akin to a warm hug; no wonder I love winter, have a penchant for melancholy music, and gravitate toward the color gray.  Funny thing, I don’t have a depressive nature, but I’m definitely drawn to sensory experiences that invite stillness and reflection.  Two straight days of rain checks both of those boxes and the glorious cherry on top is that I don’t have anywhere I have to be.  

With the scent of a fall candle wafting about and the lull of soft music in the background, I’m surrounded by a nurturing quiet that totally delights me.  My thoughts wander between this and that - wrestling with worries, playing with ideas, and dreaming little dreams.  It’s when I feel most like an artist; ready to bring out what’s within.  For all of us, finding the bridge between thoughtful marination and creative incubation is the elixir for healing.  No better example of that than this poem by Mary Oliver:

I Worried
I worried a lot.  Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow
in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall 
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, 
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well, 
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, 
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up.  And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

Think of your favorite songs, paintings, books…they’re all vessels for storytelling.  We’re drawn to them because they make the hard parts of our own story feel less lonely.  My vessel is writing.  What’s yours?