Music in the rain

An essay I wrote on November 30, 2011. The message seems fitting now.

There used to be a time in my life when my outlook, my mood, my thoughts, my happiness centered around the weather, circumstances, finances, relationships and good health among others. These are things that are always changing, shifting. And just like the rise and fall of the ocean waves, so went my mood, up and down every day. I had hopes of waking up and looking on the bright side of things, but inevitably something would happen, as life does, to bring me down. It was a terrible way to live, running and hiding when things went wrong, nothing ever going the way I wanted them to for long. I shudder when I think about the countless hours that I laid in bed with the covers over my head, willing my problems away, angry and living in fear that nothing would ever be how I wanted it to be. I tried to turn to medication in order to alleviate the pain of the emotional roller coaster I was on: anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, anti-pain meds. I blamed my pain on hormones, on everybody else, on the heavy workload, on the seasons, on my ill health. I thought if I just had more money, better health, more sunshine, more time to myself, more whatever, then I would be okay. That life would be okay.
 

As much as I disliked that time in my life and even the person I was back then, the true me, my awakened soul, knows that I must be gentle to her and love that broken girl who was struggling to find her path to joy. Grace allows me to see the truth about that chapter in my journey: how necessary it was to go through in order to fall forward to where I am now.

It rained quite a lot over the last week; quite a few dreary days that make you want to stay in bed. I am also sick with a sinus infection and have been sick off and on for the last month. In spite of that, I was keenly aware of a shift in my perspective about those realities. For one, I noticed myself staring out the window a lot, focused on the rain and the way it slid over the glass, large raindrops and small ones, beating gently in a rhythmic and soothing way. I focused on my breathing when things became overwhelming or when I felt myself slip into a fearful place. And when I couldn't even breath because my sinuses were so clogged, I sat over a steaming bowl of water and inhaled the fragrant sent of tea tree oil, staring at my eyes in the reflection of the water and seeing myself in a whole new way. My eyes didn't look tired even though my body felt that way. They appeared alive, shimmering and dancing to the music inside my heart.

Each day I make an effort to find the things I am thankful for, and to ask the Universe to reveal the lesson I was meant to learn that day. What did each situation, conversation, moment come to reveal to me? What beautiful imprint of life can be permanently etched in my mind like a painting? This week it was about the rain and music. I felt in my soul the realization that there is music in music and there is music in the rain. There is music in the creaking of the stairs and in the dishwasher running. There is music in the way the coins, which slipped out of the pants pockets in the dryer, beat against the sides as it turns and turns. There is music in the laughter of my children. There is music in the wind. There is music in breath. And there is eternal music, the kind that will live on after death and through all of life's rising and falling waves, in that which we call love.