Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Rain Magnet (notes)

She lay on her back looking at the sky, relaxed and concentrating, melting into the earth and feeling everything everything in it. Overhead the clouds came from every direction, slowly at first, collecting in great puffy masses, condensing as their numbers increased, whirling together in mottled expectation. They sky faded to gray, and darkened further as the atmosphere blotted out the sun. Beginning with a few blessed drops, the rain struck the dust of the desert, created ripples on the surface of the parched earth. Finally the rain came down in torrents, soaking her hair and her face and her clothes.

But it wasn't imperious, this coming together, this gathering. It wasn't controlling. It was simply what was; it was natural. And so tiring, to be a magnet for the rain! But invigorating. And not hiding, but not broadcasting either, because people are afraid of what they don't understand, and that wasn't the point, to make them afraid. Or to be revered for some strange power, because it wasn't strange: it was only what was.

It wasn't like gathering the clouds in her arms: How could anyone gather clouds that didn't want to be together? But it was rather like creating a space in herself, letting herself open to attract the clouds with the intensity, like a magnet. Trusting.

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