it’s been raining for days. today the sun came out briefly and i noticed that all the colors seemed to be vibrant impressions of themselves.
the rain has not come alone, and it has not gone anywhere but into the dirt. the soil is damp and soft, swallowing temporary steps.
the thunder comes from a long way and then the lightning is exploding just overhead and i can hear the patter of rain against the window and the outer wall. this amazes me, knowing how small raindrops are, that i can hear them at scale. i can hear them through all the layers of my home, over the music, behind the noises from the television. i can hear the rumbling even as i write this, rumbling is a promise of something spectacular coming, but i cannot wait for it tonight, i must sleep. this beginning of the storm will do for now.
it’s as humbling and awe inspiring as anything else, to live in this world of rain that pours in sheets from the sky for days, tiny boisterous rain, cleaning the earth below the topsoil, rivulets carrying away the impossible silencing weight of winter.
it is spring, daunting squall-full spring. let’s see what all this death has made.
storm to do list:
donate to Mia’s breast cancer support fund;
listen to new Andre 3000 tribute to his late parents and cry for days;
read pema chodron classic When Things Fall Apart and center;
dream about a detroit screening of Pleasure Activism contributor Alana Devich Cyril’s new documentary about her battle with stage four cancer and finding pleasure in each day;
fall from great heights into the river that finds itself underground.
“mantra: i die a thousand deaths, and am reborn one thousand and one times.” – #shewolfetarot by @serpentfire