Today, in the southwest corner of the Michigan-Mitten Land of Snowfall,
it’s pouring rain.
More like obsessed, forceful snare drum beats than a placid pitter-patter, the gust-driven wind-waves throw their pop and tat crescendos in sheets against the wood and tar of the roof.
Sharp lines of sound jump from the driving cadence — casting outward an energy that can only originate from the sky.
Amidst our tree-and-ornament preparations,
quite unexpected, just days before Christmas, this pouring rain is.
(Yoda reference intended.)
(But I digress.)
The energy and intensity of the rain causes the listener to pause. And in the pause, the intense rain holds magic.
But listener beware.
It’s not the good kind of magic.
It’s the lulling, mesmerizing kind of rain-sound that clandestinely seizes the listener, binding him or her in non-movement as a spell cast, making the mind numb, tuning the mind from much-needed forward movement
(Mellow charm has its time and place.)
(Captivating charisma can be appealing.)
(But anesthetizing enchantment of the deadening kind is never good.)
Dangerous, it is.
The rain makes us stand still, when we need to move.
Okay, wait a minute.
Before all you rain-lovers get mad at the dark declarations and utterances of doom, stay with me.
(As always, there’s a purpose.)
Rain = intensity in your life.
Intensity can be a busy schedule. A deadline. A list of things to do and so little time to do them in.
Intensity comes from the job. The home. Even friends, gatherings, and holiday cheer.
The intensity becomes a single-intonation blare
making you and me tune out what’s important.
Don’t let the driving intensity of the holiday
take away the truth:
Hope has come.
Joy is here.
Peace and goodwill resides under the roof, inside of us.
Let’s not let the driving beats of life mesmerize us
into not feeling, not caring, and not seeing the wonder.
Whatever your “rain” today, push it away.
Feel. Care. See.
Be fully alive.
(Regardless of the rain.)