it rained on me. hot, heavy drops of humid air falling from a flattened and glaring grey sky. i walked and it smelled of wetted asphalt and smoky gasoline and dirty brown grassiness dampened by those hot, heavy drops of humid air, delivered to my t-shirt and my toes and my hair from this near-white seattle sky with no dimension or texture or clouds to decipher.
there’s something inside you, bigger than this entire world. a deep and intense spirit, waiting, growing, longing for love.
so do you choose fear, or do you choose love? why not live with both in a manifestation of absolute completeness. a true and intense devotion to the universe and all its magic. to all the terror and the trauma and the tremendous battles we face every day.
find fear, but find love in it. give flight to your soul but keep your dreams always within your heart. and dream for a better life, a better world. dream for humanity.
today the clouds cry heavily with rain. we stay hidden in the normalcy, under this blanket of grey and wet.
singing and dancing in the rain at a gay festival in stuttgart, germany. with one of my all time favourite people.
the susurrus of rain on the roof stirs me so gently from sleep, this morning.
and peaceful, i wake, smiling at the muted light surrounding the gap between the blind and the window frame, i adjust to the day. easily. and i pull the covers up to my neck, stretching my legs to the end of the bed, squeezing and relaxing into happiness, under the sheets. i wake, i rise, i smile.
sunday morning, the day is mine.
i feel like i write a lot. but i don’t. i think a lot. and i think about writing what i think about. it sounds strange because it is strange.
i write very casually, very often. it’s become a habit. i like keeping in touch with people by writing. i like being a high-tech pen pal. or an old school one. every time i receive an email or letter or message from a friend, i’m a little surprised. i think because i appreciate it so much. i know what it takes to sit and write an email (or one up, a letter) when you remember to think about someone on the other side of the world.
it’s hard when the people you most want to talk to aren’t there. i miss my family. i miss my friends. i miss normalcy. but i’m not halfway yet. and i like that. i’m not ready to for my adventure to end.
it’s been raining a bit on the island. i took another trip to hana, yes, another. this time, because of the rain, there was water everywhere. on the road, on the ground, running off the side of the mountains into the ocean. the pretty waterfalls that once trickled their calm stream into a clear pool turned into violent rapids that covered the rocks we so casually rested on before.
every waterfall was a rapid. every waterfall was raging with angry water fighting to squeeze past something and get to some place i would never know. every waterfall was brown, muddied water. water spilled from wherever it could.
i couldn’t fathom the amount of water that was flowing. all i could think about was how we were sitting on the rocks just three days ago. they were nowhere to be seen today. today, it was my memory worrying me. visions of bodies being thrown around the river. disturbing. the amount of water – unbelievable. eerie. mysterious. like the rainforest was keeping a secret – most likely about where it’s hiding the never ending supply of water.
i won’t wish the days away.
it rained last night. yep. hot, heavy, fat drops of rain. enough to soak the ground so the water from the sprinklers this morning just sat on the surface. turning mud muddier.
it’s overcast today. it might rain again. they need it. this side of the island stays dry all year round. you can see it in the dying grass on the mountain. contrast: suburbia bursts with brightness. green and leafy, reds, pinks, white. flowers in bloom. sprinklers saving them from dying of thirst.
there are no water restrictions here. you can use a hose, at midday if you feel the urge. shower for 20 minutes. more if you’d like. you could fill your pool a hundred times a day – and may just have to. since i arrived last week, a glass of water has sat on the table in my room. it was full when it was put there. now, after no one has taken a drink from it, it is hours away from empty.
today the clouds are bringing a cool breeze. but the weather man says it’s still meant to get to 30 degrees. it’s already 23. feels quite cool – home, it would feel hot. sorry mumma, i don’t miss the cold.
it’s raining. 11:45pm. in bed. and it’s raining. i can hear it loudly on the tin roof. the fire is on. it’s warm, i’m cosy, i’m content.
sometimes, there are those perfect days. they come around once in a while to remind you it’s the simple things in life. those days when you laugh to yourself because things just couldn’t get any better. you don’t think about anything else. you’re happy, elated, joyous. those days allow you grace in an ordinarily chaotic world.
today was one of those days.
i awoke to my body clock. baked banana muffins. drove to see whales. the sun was shining. air, crisp. but the sun was shining, that’s all that mattered. it warmed me, right to my core. warmed me and reminded me: this is what it’s all about. there they were, the whales and their babies relaxing in the sun. in a cove so protected it felt like a cool summers day; not a warm winter one. no breeze. no crisp air. flat, calm ocean. the sun giving meaning to the word glisten as it rested, so precious, on it’s tip toes on the very top of the water. calm, beautiful, serene. just me, a good friend and the whales.
and rainbows too.
so now, as i sit, cosy in bed, i listen to the rain. it falls hard and steady on the tin roof. purposefully. “i’m here, listen to me,” it bellows. i’m listening, rain.
as i see out this day, the rain fall lightens. stay. please. i fell in love today. i fell in love with life again and it felt pretty good. it doesn’t matter about tomorrow, or what i’m meant to be doing. i forgot all that today. today, the rain made me smile.