This is totes me. Rain has always brought solace and fun – surfing in the rain, splashing in puddles as a kid – but it wasn’t until this year just gone that I have really noticed how much I love it. How much it really soothes. When everyone is rabbering on about how much they hate it, I sit there puzzled…realising it’s made my day. I think it’s living in a city that’s done it. Suddenly, as the heavens open, I am surrounded by WATER. My favourite thing on the planet. Everything in my body breathes a sigh of relief as I watch the sky empty. I sit there, or walk there, in my anorak. I lord it up and get soaked through to the bone.
There have been countless times when I have headed out with the specific intention of getting soaked. No other reason but to get totally drenched with rainwater. And splashes of mud. I have headed out when the rest of the world are heading in, or heading under cover. I have allowed myself to feel wild and free, and to ignore the weird looks as I walk through the puddles, ankle deep. I fondly remember a day when the heavens literally DUMPED an ocean of rainwater on our rooftops here. I went out in my shorts, and my smile beamed from ear to ear for the two hours the rain fell. I had music in my ears, as loud as it would go. I had the streets to myself. I found my favourite pocket of Green, and lay under a tree as the soft raindrops fell, on my trusting cheeks. I climbed the hill and lay in the grass as the water pounded the ground around me. I had – for a couple of hours – nature to myself. In that moment, I was in the wild again. Living in a city, this is a hard thing to find – pockets of one-on-one time with my wild friend. But when the rain falls, it is a prime time for some romancin’ with her.
I’m not gonna lie, these days my body – after five or ten minutes – fucking hates it. My soul sings, but my body cries. The length of time I can do this – get soaked, get cold, feel wild – is heartbreakingly limited. Sometimes I ignore the signs and I submerge myself anyway. I get cold and chilly, and am happy and free. Or I wrap myself up in uncountable layers and allow myself the treat of divulging in whatever weather is coming my way. I look after myself as best I can despite the desperate need to just sack off that shit, and head out into the water semi-naked instead. But, despite the latter being something I am becoming better at, I still pay. Sometimes it’s just a couple of days, other times it’s a couple of weeks. And right now, with a slipped disc, it’s kind of limited to lying on benches…so the chill hits much quicker. But, despite the glands, the flu, the exhaustion, the snotty nose that follows, it’s fucking worth it. I believe in soul-health, and this is one of the ways I find mine. Raindrop town.
When everyone is looking the other way, I dare you to do something different and stare right at the sky. Watch the raindrops fall. Let them land all over your face. Let them gently sting your eyes, with a loving embrace. Let them trickle down your neck, into your t-shirt. Wear shorts and flip flops. Be out long enough for your bra and pants to be hit by it too. Find a patch of grass and lie in it, dew soaked or rain drenched, and absorb the clarity and the wisdom the rain brings. Let it wash your soul clean, and let it be the tears for the grief you feel. Or just step out in the street in your slippers and let yourself get temporarily semi-soaked. Let the raindrops awaken your wild vibe. It’s medicine. As is the hot cacao you drink afterwards.