Spiritually speaking, I am in the desert, so just now when I heard the rain, I ran to the door. I stepped outside and stood under the awning listening as the rain became heavier and heavier. I thought of the many people that instinctively avoid the rain by dashing in between drops, grabbing umbrellas and running for cover. I felt the mist on my bare legs as I stood there in my t-shirt and shorts. That's when it occurred to me.
When was the last time I deliberately stood in the pouring rain without any concern for getting soaking wet?
I could remember a time, years ago, when an old acquaintance and I went jogging in the rain. It was his preference. He loved it and wanted me to share in that love, so I joined him. It was fun and exciting and pretty romantic. I realized today that that was way too long ago, so I did the only natural thing. I took two steps forward and left the shelter of my awning. I stood in the pouring rain, facing the sky, hands held high. The rain got heavier and heavier and as I began to get soaked, I asked God to do a few things for me.
I felt the warmth of the ground underneath my bare feet. I felt the back of my Rejoice t-shirt becoming soaked with water and as it touched my back, the coolness was refreshing and shocking all at once. We've had a bit of a heat wave here in NJ for the past several days, and I felt as parched as the atmosphere, the grass, the trees, and my potted plants that I've been so desperately trying to keep hydrated. Without water, of course, they would perish, as their water source either comes from the sky, a human, or it just doesn't come at all. The grass goes into hibernation, the trees, somehow, withstand the cold, the heat, droughts. Trees amaze me with their fortitude and strength. Potted plants, however, need the potters attention, love, nourishment and care. I am that potter and I care for what is mine very much. Maybe when it comes to me though, I lose touch. After all, I am not the potter of myself. Someone, something, has potted me, has allowed me this life, this breath, this moment, and if in this moment I am withering, it is the Master Potter who needs to tend to me.
I asked God to take away my pain and sadness. I asked God to wash me clean and let all the impurities pour into the ground, into Mother Earth, and be reborn as something better. I stood in the rain and asked God to notice me, to not forsake me, to renew my spirit, mind, body and soul. I got soaked.
The rain has since stopped and I've come inside. I took off my soaking wet Rejoice t-shirt and shorts and wrapped myself in the comfort of one of my long, white, cotton robes. I took my hair out of its pony tail and brushed it as lovingly as I could. I could feel the prana running through my body and trust me, after all the illness and drugs I've had to endure, this was an altogether much better feeling to be aware of. I feel less sad. I made myself a cup of tea and sat down at the computer. As I sipped the hot tea I just made for myself, I thought of this blog and the fact that I've been posting so much about the physical and hardly anything about the spiritual. I realize that it's partly because I've been so sick and partly because I haven't felt very spiritual. I do feel somewhat like a worm that a bird dropped in the desert on its way back to feed its young. The bird trying desperately to hang on to its catch, namely me, inadvertently dropped me and I landed in the worst possible of places.
Lying in the arid desert is no place for spirit. Or is it?
While standing in the pouring rain, I looked at all that was alive around me. Everything was getting soaked, every leaf, every tree, every blade of grass, every delicate flower. I could feel the somewhat localized yet universal sigh of relief after not having anything to drink for so long and then this abundance of grace. I felt as if I belonged to all of it and I felt like it appreciated my 'free to experience the moment' presence all the while taking in what it had been waiting for for so long, and that's when I realized the desert is as appropriate a place as the side of the raging river. Both offer an abundance of wisdom, knowledge and experience. Both are spiritual places.
Yes, I've been in the raging river and have enjoyed the laziness along side of it, but to be so far away from it, this I really have not enjoyed. The dark night of soul is not an enjoyable experience. The worm, when it realizes it will never make it back to source, gives itself over to the inevitable but the human knows better. The human knows that one day it will return to source, one way or the other.
For me, I am still walking out of the desert after just experiencing the best water mirage of my life. It was so real. It was so wet and it was so natural and unexpected. So what am I worried about? God would never leave me completely although the desert mirage is just as real. One way or the other I will find my God and my God will find me, wanting.
The world could never possibly fill my heart the way that rainfall did. The world could never satisfy my thirst the way I know God can. Even when my cup is empty, there is a cloud off in the distance with my name on it. God has fashioned it this way. He has made the high places, as well as the low. He has allowed happiness and fullness of spirit, and he also allows sadness and emptiness. He created the sand as well as the ocean.
If I'm smart, I will not avoid a single drop of rain but allow my soul to be submerged with an open heart, a clear conscience, and a desire to live another day, despite my circumstances. If I'm smart, I will try to remember the raging river while in the desert. If I'm smart, I will remember the laziness along side of the river as I battle and try to swim upstream. If I'm smart, I will remember how wet it once felt while being as dry as I've ever been.
"If" I'm smart.
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