Drops of water poured down upon my face. I felt the roll of each drop, as they gently found cradle in the corners of my eyes, and dripped down my cheeks like teardrops. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, face toward the dark sky, stuck out my tongue, and pretended I was back in the desert, dehydrated and starving of thirst.
I counted the drops as they fell like beads of delectable pleasure upon my reaching taste buds. It was pouring rain. Winter is upon us in New Zealand, and when it rains, it pours. I was soaked to the bone, from not 5 minutes lying ‘neath the dark, seemingly starless sky. I spread my fingers wider across the Earth, forming yoga hands on the drenched, neon green grass-turned-flood beneath me. I felt the cool softness of each blade of grass, tickling my neck and the exposed skin of my back. I imagined the worms, making their way through the maze, struggling to pass the barricades before Kiwi rustled from their nests to eat them whole, and then the entire scenario start over again. My bare feet planted themselves into the Earth. All of my 4 extremities were pressed into the ground, and I was connected.
I had been laying on the metal hostel bunk bed earlier that night. Listening to the pitter-patter of rainfall upon the roof. The tin construction of which imitated a sound much more like a stampede of giant ants marching across the roof, rather than the falling of rain.
I had been yearning to lay in the soil ‘neath a blanket of rain since I came to New Zealand. To feel heaps and buckets of water pouring down upon me. I longed to have the time and space to enjoy the rain without a giant pack strapped to my back, and not wanting to tramp all the next day in soaking wet boots. I finally had my opportunity, and as usual, the emotional timing of it all flowed as easy as water down a ravine.
I marveled with respect and admiration of the thousands of trees and plants who stand their ground in times of wet, cold rain and fierce winds. So sure of where their roots are planted, allowing any inclement weather to push their roots even further into the soil, standing ground on who they are, how they grow, changing for no one. I spoke to the plants, asking them if maybe, just maybe, I was no different than they – could I withstand raging storms of all sorts because I needed water too? I needed hydration, however it chose to come.
I stood from my hostel bunk and walked barefoot into the street with the same conviction I had left my marriage with just 1 year before. Where I knew, intellectually, and in my soul, that I needed to do this. With my heart racing, and hands shaking, hoping I would not catch cold from the below freezing temperatures and hoping I would not go cold without his warm comforting body next to me each night. But walk I did, into the dark of the future, into the dark of the night, into the dark of the unknown. Following my heart to where she called me, with no compass to guide or promise of better days ahead. Only knowing: I had to do what I had to do.
As I lay in my merino wool long-johns and T-shirt that night, hair down and feet bare, squinting up through captured water droplets upon each lash, I spoke out loud to the Earth, the God Energy, the night sky, him, myself. I told the soil of New Zealand that I was giving him up. I would leave him here when I left. I was giving my attachment, my sorrow, my expectations, my shame – to the land. I announced my intentions: I would be letting go. I deserved happiness, too, and happiness was what I would choose. I felt in that moment as though the Earth literally sucked up a portion of my pining for my previous life without reseravation, just as she drank in the welcomed waters of rain. She never ceases to support me.
The longer I travel across this country which I have held sacred in my heart for a decade now, the more I feel and metaphorically “see” why my soul was called here, long before I had any idea as to “why”. The more I allow Earth to hold my emotions, pouring them into her as I scream out to the wild wilderness or pound my fists or feet into the soil, the lighter I feel, the more free I become.
At times I feel selfish, I feel I am not giving back to the Earth all that she has given to me. I then remember that living each day in Harmony with other living beings, plants, humans, energies, and most importantly – self, is all she requests in return. I pick up every piece of trash I see, I have not littered since I can remember, and I explore with the ultimate respect her magnitude and beauty. What more can I do? Mother Nature has a way of dispersing of my emotions in a way I cannot on my own. Her mystery is one I will forever treasure, seek, and hope I never fully figure out.
Lying under the dark night sky of the Nelson Lakes region that night was freezing, and exhilarating, and cleansing. I suddenly felt as though I were being baptized. Baptized into a Spiritual religion that I understood, that I wanted, that I longed for. One where I was respected, and valued, and where I was honored enough to make decisions that brought me happiness. It was my previous wedding anniversary the next day, and something about the fact that it had been an entire year since my marriage ended… An entire year of me living on my own… A freeing energy expanded within my soul. I can do this!!
I stared up from where I lay on the drenched Earth, and watched the raindrops quickly falling, illuminated by the streetlamps, the entire town asleep… As I stared at individual drops, they seemed to skid to slow-motion, falling effortlessly and without reservation.
Writing this now I am reminded of the SheDaisy song, “I Wish I Were the Rain," my previous favorite song for many years. That night, I did feel as though I were the Rain. I shook from internal pain, external cold from the rain, and a realization that I was turning a page in my book. Not just to the next page, but an entirely new chapter. A chapter in which the pages were white and crisp and blank, just waiting for me to take my pen and ink my story to their pages.
I am yet to be written. Full of hope and promise, somehow the emptiness of the following pages in my life’s book is inspiring, and exhilarating, and freeing.
I am not sure how long I lay under that cleansing night sky. All I know is I felt like a newborn babe as I walked slowly, drenched through and through, feet numb from the cold, back to my hostel. I had allowed nature to pour her cleansing rains of peace and understanding down upon me, and I felt a renewed hope for the future. A hope that whatever was to be, would simply be. That in hoping for nothing, I opened my soul to everything. That I could let go. And let it be, what it is.
Needless to say, I went inside and took a steaming hot shower, crawled into bed between warm sheets, exhausted and renewed. I did not have my recurring nightmares that night. Instead I slept like a child in a caretaker’s arms. Deep, calm and at peace.
I accept all that lies ahead.
X Rachel
"I Wish I Were The Rain" - SheDaisy You said, I bled You meant, I went Overcomplicated, spent Love's a series of broken sentences Miscalculations, reconciliations Seductive highs, destructive lows Words that fly too fast Feet that move too slow Wish I could dance outside this windowpane Oh, I wish I were the rain 'Cause it can fall as hard as it wants to Gingerly drip down a lover's face Cry for hours and weeks on end And never feel a bit out of place And it can feed a field, put out a fire And never feel the pain I wish I were the rain. Oh yeah, I wish I were the rain Don't speak, I'm weak You cry, I lie Overcompensation, why Our arsenal of hope has been bled dry Don't you wish that you could live outside the insane Don't you ever wish for a free reign The blistering, twisted, hard-fisted blows Have drowned the once fervent glow I wish I were the rain I can cry just like the rain, the rain Yeah, I wish I were the rain |