Dear Friend,
Early morning and the rain is pouring down in sheets, buffeted by the wind. My water proof trousers despite having been washed, have a lingering odour of the huskies we met at Christmas time in the alps.
My new walking boots have been oiled and waxed so there’s no chance they’ll leak or crack. I like to keep things in working order for as long their natural life span will allow. You learn your lessons by messing up. My last pair of boots fell prey to being dried out in a hot stream of air out of the heating system in a camper van in Iceland.
If you’ve ever visited Iceland you’ll know about wind and ice and rain. Wind so strong you can barely put one foot in front of another. You can lean into it, like you’re flying.
I love the sound of rain on canvas. It reminds me of British summer holidays, the whole family asleep in our VW camper van. Lying in our bunks, Kevin still in the land of dreams, mam and dad stirring below, the rat a tat tat of the spray above us. A cocoon.
The hood of my winter coat makes the same sound as I walk Zara round the little park near our house. The more days we spend together the more we fall into silent partnership. I watch her run towards her favourite spots. The place of the squirrels, the spot where everyday, somebody leaves bread for the rats and the birds. Following the scent trails of night creatures.
Her fur is wet but not muddy.
For that I am thankful. She’s pretty patient about being towelled down. Like all of the dogs I know, she delights in muddy water, is offended by the hose pipe. At least I won’t need to put us both through that little ritual.
As the rain eases off I’m surprised to see people without coats. A young guy dressed for the office, vaping as he hunches and speed walks his way to the tube.
My hands are pleasantly cold. We pause under a tree and I can feel the energy like a shower of light. Chiara taught me to relate to trees as living beings. Their conversation is slow and deep, connected like their roots.
Our species drifted into disaster when we began to experience the world as dead matter. Resources to use in the pursuit of more.
Everything is alive.
The rain, the wild grass. The rainwater flowing in the gutters. Even the rotting detritus dropped by passers by is shining this morning. It’s all made of light. Our physical world is made of non physical energy.
You can interchange terms. Spirit, energy, light.
Choosing to go out in the rain in one experience. Being caught in a downpour another. Like when it rains on your new shoes for the first time. You know it’s going to happen sooner or later, but if you resist it, you suffer.
Our world is full of beauty. Sunshine and rain. Accepting what comes in the way sunlight makes rainbows.
If you imagine this energy all around you, an ever present loving creative force you feel part of it. What we need comes to us. Sometimes the lessons are hard. What’s happening now to our weather systems is forcing us to return to an ancient knowing of the sanctity of all life.
Our personal challenges too.
What’s needed is more care for one another. Less judgement. Ever open to discovering the depths of who we are. Peeling away the layers, takes a life time. I used to be in a hurry to get someplace, then you realise you are where you are, no matter how far you run.
The rain has stopped and now it’s patches of sunlight, the wind blowing the clouds way up over head, beyond the sky the infinite mysteries of the stars.
Infinity is beyond the human mind, and yet that is where we are.
Remember when we were kids and the mystery was bright and new and full of wonder.
Walking in the rain.
The universe a raindrop.
On a blade of grass.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey