“Solitude is the soil in which genius is planted, creativity grows, and legends bloom; faith in oneself is the rain that cultivates a hero to endure the storm, and bare the genesis of a new world, a new forest.” ~ Mike Norton
“No one can possess a sunset like the one we saw that evening. Just as no one can possess an afternoon of rain beating against the window, or serenity of a sleeping child, or the magical moment when the waves break on the rocks. No one can possess the beautiful things in this Earth, but we can know them and love them.” ~ Paolo Coelho
“I am always looking for rainbows, literally and metaphorically, only that I am starting to think that I could learn more from my journey if, from time to time, I were brave enough to stay in the rain longer.” ~ Luigina Sgarro
Rain in the desert. The phrase has such a wealth of potential meaning, enough from which to pick and choose, but wet is wet. I just got back inside under assault from lazy, fat rain drops. Tis indeed a stormy sky in early morning. Would that I could I would place an order to have the rain visit on and off throughout the day. Not bloody likely, but I didn’t expect this morning’s rain. Weather can be so confounding. I’ll take what I can get. That’s the magic of rain: you take what you can get. Yet it is the internal force that matters beyond the pure mechanics, and flow dynamics, and wetness, and stuff. We are hardwired into a primal relationship with rain. As I finished that last sentence a fresh wave of light rain began, and now it is ending. Three dozen more times between now and sunset – that’s all I’m asking. Here’s some more, right now. Anyway . . . I’m nearing the need for a second cup of coffee. The need to feed the cat – – or so she tells me – – has been running strong for at least two hours, and I shall have to take care of that shortly, as well. Then it will be a grand day for a strongly introverted lad such as I. At least I shall feel like a lad if I sit stock still and watch some sci-fi, fantasy, whatever, on Hulu. Yes, I’m re-binging on The Librarians. Rebecca Romijn’s eyes alone make it worthwhile. But I need a good laugh, and to reinforce the need to believe that magic is primarily a force for good. President McMojo has sullied the Force. For now I listen to the Force whispering. The Goddess too. Yesterday morning my Grandma Florence visited me suddenly. I was delighted and startled. She rarely comes to mind, and a visit in spirit . . . well, it’s been a long long time. She was my paternal grandmother, and I have been leaning toward mom’s side for many years now, and . . . ummmm . . . well, Grandma Olive and I got drunk together one night – beer and sherry and cigarettes. That’s a bonding I do not experience with t’other grandmother. But it’s all Goddess stuff today. Full Moon and all. Magic and rain showers. Magic and beer. Magic and that distant smile that haunts me so.
All is well. Goof gloriously.