Rainy Day Magic

“Rain,
aren’t you my soul’s joyful tears,
only longing for the sky to be happy?”
― Munia Khan

It is a rainy morning, cool for August. I can hear the rain dribbling down through the downspout to empty on the thirsty ground, hard from days of drying in the sun. A chickadee and nuthatches welcome the morning, bright and nasal voices blending.

The rain picks up its pace, drops and splashes on roof and gutter getting louder. Rain on the leaves in the trees surrounding the porch is a constant shushing sound now. The birds chatter on, not seeming to mind the wet.

I can hear the garbage truck out front now, making its way around the circle at the end of Ravenswood Lane, crashing and clanking as the robotic arm picks up trash cans and dumps them into the back. It is like some huge-shelled crab making its way about, lifting food into its maw with great claws. This crab has a set feeding schedule and it is right on time this morning. Later on, it’s sister crab will be around to gather the recycling to take back to her nest.

Perhaps it is the rain and wet that fills my head with seashore fantasies.

It is pouring down now, straight and true. It’s life-giving moisture feeding the plants, trees and grass. Our birds are singing loudly in praise. They know how much we need the rain.

The air is sweet and moist. The light dim and grayed by a sky filled with clouds. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and the morning is alive, everything present, here and now.

There is magic in this moment. It is subtle and so easily missed.

It comes when I focus deeply into my senses, hear the train whistle in the distance and the constancy of the rain pouring now through the downspout.

It comes when I feel the moisture cooled air drifting over my arms, kissing my cheeks.

It comes when the light changes from gray to white, reflecting off the deep, wet green of trees and grass.

If I was inside listening to the latest news updates, worrying over who is and who will be president, or thinking about what jobs I should get done today, or taking a shower and getting ready for the day ahead, I would have missed this magic.

How many mornings have I rushed along forgetting to embrace this gift, not even realizing that it is all around me?

The rain has slowed now, drip, drip, dripping in the down spout. The air lightens, and the birds move away still singing in the distance. The day feels as if it’s ready to get started, the magic moving onward, and so must I.

​But I’ll remember this another morning, early and bright. I’ll remember the magic.

Photo by Camilla Bundgaard on Unsplash

Your Spiritual Toolbox

Our bodies with our five senses are the key to opening to the magic.
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Our bodies are always right here, right now. They can be nowhere else. Not like the mind, always in the future planning what is to come, or in the past, worrying over what has happened, but here, now, in the present.

Always in this present moment, where the magic is.

The next time you feel the need for a little magic, sit and quiet yourself.

Take several deep long breaths and pull your awareness into your body.

Leave all the thoughts of your day, thoughts of past or future, outside your awareness for the time being. You can always pick them up later if you feel the need. For now, bring all your attention into the present.

What sensations do you feel on your skin? What do you feel inside your body?

Close your eyes and listen. What do you hear?

Open your eyes now and look around you, what do you see? What color is the light that you see? How would you describe your surroundings?

Take a breath through your nose. What do you smell?

If you have a drink or food, take a sip or bite, really taste what you are putting into your mouth. How would you describe it?

If you have time, write your perceptions. Describe in detail what you feel, hear, see, smell, taste.

The magic of this moment is right here waiting for you. You have only to open yourself.