We think we know rain . . .
But listen! What is that?
Icy hammers striking a steel roof?
A sideways, rattlepane squall?
Rain pelts forest, suddenly backlit as if by flood lights. April’s quicksilver theater beckons. How swiftly the downpour escalates, sluicing through tangled birch and fir—a sky-funneled deluge within a shaft of light so charged, so electrifying, I can’t look away.
Twigs festooned with bearded lichens tremble, weighted with liquid gems: winking sapphire, emerald, fuchsia. Gold. Branches upholstered in moss seep. So many big bright tears.
And still the celestial light dazzles, half-blinding, and the heart lifts, awash, as if somehow suspended outside time and yet . . .
purely here . . .
even as sun-warmed water across our planet keeps rising as mist, falling as sleet, crystallizing as snowdrift. Pond ice. Permafrost.
Think of it! Every trace of water—primal and present since the beginning—lingers on: from the face of the deep to the rivers of Eden, from the tears of Christ to these glints of glory.
Transcendence. Is this what I long for?
A shiver runs down my spine. I feel weightless, suspended. Nudged toward change. Or an insight. Something hovers, something divine, surpassing life’s normal limitations. I am here, trying to take it all in. No need to earn this fleeting gift, no pressure to prove myself, no price to be paid. I needn’t be one iota wiser or kinder, less guilty or more organized. I am enough as is, enveloped for now in rain-lit grace.
Later perhaps, I’ll retain an impression, an after-image. An internalized sweep of reverence to be relived.
Any moment it might swim up
into my consciousness,
leave me buoyed afresh with marvel . . .
How do we recognize a transcendent moment . . . and our place within it?
Suspended raindrop: Photo by Ed Leszczynskl on Unsplash
Grass: Photo by Thomas Couillard on Unsplash
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Yum! Savoring this image and these words. So many gifts- the rain, your talent, and the You-ness that is you. I am grateful. Thank you, Laurie.
Dear Sarah, you are my spring tonic today. Thank you for these encouraging words!
I am so looking forward to seeing (and hearing!) you both on the 21st!!!
Thanks Laurie for the reminder to look deeply. I so appreciate your work with words.
Thank you, friend. I need reminders, too!
“No need to earn this fleeting gift,
no pressure to prove myself,
no price to be paid.
I needn’t be one iota wiser or kinder,
less guilty or more organized.
I am enough as is.
enveloped for now in rain-lit grace.”
Laurie,
As I soak in this gloriousness, I envision my Lord’s arms outstretched ready to enfold me just as I am – in need, in awe – of his Love.
Gratefully,
Katie
How wonderful those words look with line breaks! They strike me all the more in this format, Katie. Genius.
And I NEEDED to read them again this exact moment. (“in need, in awe”) What a gift you are! Thank you.
i experienced transcendant moments in Iona, pre-vertigo. I’d never be able to do that now (hiking tour).
This too speaks of a rain theme. It just cropped up on FB memories:
Iona
Petrichor beckons …
Don hiking boots—prepared!—but
Let rain bless my face.
4.4.17
My goodness, the same date—six years ago! How intrepid, to hike those crags; how stirring to walk those shores.
Did you know anyone in the group before going?
What an arduous, depleting ordeal you’ve endured with daily vertigo. May healing come! May rain again bless your beautiful face.
P.S.
Don’t you wish someone would have found a more musical word to describe that singular scent left in the wake of rain? I like knowing the word, but it sounds more akin to a knobbly, Jurassic, medicinal substance. The syllables slump on my tongue instead of lilting . . .
Just gorgeous, Laurie, as always. Forgive brevity. Need to do something, but I love this piece!!
xo
Lynn
Lynn, thank you!
It appears you gathered every lovely word and phrase in the English language to describe the beauty of rain (!)–if we pause to notice. Even on Cloudy/Rainy Day #4 (or is it #5?), there is splendor to behold! Thank you, Laurie!
Dear Nancy, “pause” feels like the brass ring . . .
Sometimes it’s a stretch for me, I get so caught up in the whirl of ideas and the daily round of chores. Thanks for highlighting that crucial noun! Seems I can never be reminded enough. 🙂
This is so beautiful Laurie, as I look out at the wet day, leaves dropping tear-like drops that have gathered at the end of their shiny green form. I’m soaking it all in and very grateful and positive, not complaining:)
Especially after reading what you wrote? Thanks for the reminder of the beauty all around us, no matter rain or shine.
Georgia, love the green heart. So fitting. It’s my first one! : )
Congrats on your book’s progress to choosing cover art. Lifting you up as you near the release . . .
I say just accept it as a gift…a gift I most likely do not or cannot know fully. Nonetheless, and this is the beauty of it, the goodness of it prevails.
I like that idea of the goodness prevailing, on its own terms.
Sometimes it’s hard for me to immerse in the moment without trying to mentally describe what I’m seeing. To just let it happen. Live it. Better by far to steep in it, savor or even revel, sidelining pesky notions of how I might later “use” it.
Perhaps another way of saying “gift”?
As per usual, you provoke thought and get us to where we should be to be in a position to turn the pot over and see the backside. Just when I start thinking that a piece of your work is overworked, it comes together and knocks me on my backside. I love it when a piece of writing can jolt me into a conscious state! Thank you for being you, nice lady.
Oh, friend, I take to heart both encouragements here:
friendly caution to skate close to the line of too much—without crossing it . . .
and your report of the welcome jolt. Thank you!