Here Comes the Rain (Again)

“Now I know the secret; there is nothing that I lack
If I give my love to you, you’ll surely give it back

Let it rain, let it rain,
Let your love rain down on me
Let it rain, let it rain
Let it rain, rain, rain”

Clapton sings in my head, as Taylor and I walk a mile in the rain. The rain in all her various incarnations plays in a loop inside my head while it pours onto us. And now Annie takes her turn.

“Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
I want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you”

It’s no secret that I love grey days, especially when they are filled with ominous clouds, a little bit of wind and a whole lot of rain, like they are now. I love the monsoon seasons in India; they bring back magical memories of my childhood and of my visits back home since those early days. I love the rainy season (i.e. winter) in California, which we really have not had one in the three years I’ve lived here. So when it falls like it’s falling today, I enjoy every minute of it.

“Only love
Can bring the rain
That makes you yearn to the sky.
Only love
Can bring the rain
That falls like tears from on high.

Love, reign o’er me, rain on me, rain on me.
Love, reign o’er me, rain on me, rain on me.”

Pete Townsend always wrote killer lyrics and Roger Daltrey always knew how to deliver them.

Back home from our walk, I’m now happily under the covers on my couch watching the rain. Taylor sits by my side, every so often striking a paw on my leg, staring at me with those thoughtful, expectant and loving eyes. And then look away when he realizes he cannot beat me in a staring contest. He doesn’t love the rain the way I love the rain. Actually, I don’t think he loves the rain at all.

Meanwhile, I imagine myself like Andy Dufresne, arms outstretched letting the rain wash over him, like it does me, cleansing me of all that has happened before, giving me a new lease on life. A new love of life.

While Andy and I soak in the rains, a paragraph from Thoreau’s Walden comes to mind:

“Some of my pleasantest hours were during the long rain storms in the spring or fall, which confined me to the house for the afternoon as well as the forenoon, soothed by their ceaseless roar and pelting; when an early twilight ushered in a long evening in which many thoughts had time to take root and unfold themselves.”

And maybe that’s why I love the rain so much. In the past when I lived in Chicago, I relegated rainy days to my days of thought, as all other days I was out on the town, doing everything but thinking. These days, even though most days are now dedicated to thought especially during my early morning hikes daily with Taylor, there’s still something special about grey days. It’s almost as if the rain gives me permission to retreat within myself to explore my deepest thoughts and desires when my mental faculties are at their sharpest.

And wonder…

Why did I bring a wet dog into the house?

And I wonder…

What’s next?

PostScript. And just like that, five hours later, the grey skies gave way to blue skies and the rain gave way to the sun. I enjoyed it while it lasted.

Go Adventure. Go Travel. Go Live.

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