It’s raining. Again. We have been having a tropical summer filled with heat and humidity. It has been raining nearly every day for the past month-and-a-half. There are usually breaks of sun in between, but the clouds seem to want to linger over this area of the world.
I am sitting on the screened in porch with Zelda the dog, watching the fall of water from milky skies. We’ve had to empty inches from the pool more than once this season. That never happens. Usually, we are adding water with a hose after long stretches of heat without precipitation. This summer is not normal, but then again, neither is the weather normal for most of the world right now. The Earth is changing, trying to adapt to, but also protest, our impact. Some believe we are already in a period of crisis. It’s difficult to believe we are not. With fires raging worldwide, and too much rain in other areas, it’s hard to deny that there is a global imbalance to the elements. We like to blame Mother Nature, forgetting that she is merely trying to keep us all alive. Her children. Not just us, but all life on the planet, including herself.
We are playing with extremes, testing her limits like unruly teens. Refusing to believe that there is not an endless supply of resources to sustain us, we turn a blind eye to excess in our quest for gain. We play a game of “I” v. “We,” without realizing both the “I” and the “We” are one and the same and no side will win if the other loses.
I did not sit down to write a rant, but rather a reminder. Today, as I sit watching the rain fall, I am remembering joy. The play of my children as they danced amid drops of water many years ago. And, I, with them, taking photographs and laughing through the feeling of bliss. When hearts open to magic, it finds us. The simple joy of being breaks the veil of separation and the universe dances with you.
We knew we were not alone. I could feel the elemental energies dancing with us, and my camera saw them. My children, as many children do, also knew of their presence. I wonder, sometimes, if we have, collectively, forgotten how to dance in the rain with open hearts. To feel the sun not as a bronzer to the skin, but as a fire igniting the sun within. I wonder if wonder has been replaced with artificial pleasures created behind windowless walls. Have you forgotten how to dance in the fall of rain? To breathe fully the joy of being as the sun sparks the cells within? I know sometimes I forget. Too often, I believe.
I wonder, if we don’t stop and remember, will the “we” and “I” survive? I know we will not thrive…for right now there is more of a global struggle occurring than a global dance.