August 10, 2015
(If we live with an open and grateful attitude, every day will bring a gift. This is one of 365 gifts during the year I turned 70.)
Raindrops are often compared to tears—an assumption that rain is a sad thing just as tears are the product of sorrow. For me, rainy days are an invitation to wake up slowly, to read all day, to listen to a gentle rhythm and to soak in saturation. Colors become vivid on rainy days, perhaps because highlights and shadows do not need to compete with one another and color can relax and be its deepest.
Everything takes on a special quality in the rain. The tiny-leafed weeds on my front lawn (lawn is used loosely because there is not a lot of grass) reach out and hold raindrops that sparkle their brightest in the absence of the sun. Each one is a sparkling world by itself and a cluster of hundreds becomes a galaxy. There is astounding beauty in its pattern.
Those whose souls are dampened with melancholy might see each sparkle as a fractured shard of glass but I see each as a dazzling jewel. Those who have tears, let them fall among the jewels and become another sun in the crown of the universe. That which has fallen reflects brightness upward. It is a magical time when rain joins sky and earth and makes it possible for them to touch.
My gift today is a sparkling universe of raindrops.
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