Pitter Patter

The skies have opened up. It has begun raining. The air is fresh and cool, but not cold, it’s refreshing and soothing.

It’s welcome, tonight. I don’t say that in vain; I’ve absolutely revelled in the sunshine. I feel so healthy and I’m glowing. I enjoyed, mostly through telling myself to, sweating on the bus in to college. I enjoyed wearing my sunglasses and reflecting randomers’ smiles, chilling in the city centre gardens with new people who had no preconceptions about me. It’s been a wonderful and wondrous five weeks and the weather only heightened such musings. I’m a sun and water baby. I was created with what seems to be an innate desire for the sun and in turn the sea. The beach inspires me, I’m relaxed and in a natural state of being when by the sea – it’s easy to be. I’ve had the joy of travelling or holidaying in such climates so working with extreme heat may be a different story. In fact, one of the days at college I was teaching a class as part of my qualification where I had to be observed and marked whilst teaching, and it was stifling outside which only doubled inside. I was sweating embarrassingly, of which the nerves didn’t help, so that was a tiny glimpse at what it could be like to work in such climates, as I so desire.

The back door to my house is located on the side of the house and as you step out of it on to a drive way that is long enough to park three cars you’ll find an old school plastic shelter cover. The plastic is fixed against the brick wall, about a couple of feet higher than the back door and connects our wall width-wise with our neighbour’s adjacent wall. It’s only a few metres long in length, and probably the same in width, but enough to keep me dry whilst being able to immerse myself in the other sensory delights of summer rain away from getting drenched. Our drives are separated by a waist-high wooden fence, and between the fence and the plastic sheets spans just above a metre in height. On occasion, we’ll see our neighbour Vera, a 90+ year old lady who shares common ground with us through chat about the weather. That’s the best I can describe the shelter really. I should just post a photo.

I stood under there just now, smoking a cigarette. The sound of the rain was amplified by the thick plastic sheets, like my very own outdoor nightclub with slanted lines of bass. My city hasn’t had rain like the rest of country until tonight. It’s loud. It sounds like it’s battering down, under that sheet. It calmed me.

I watched some meditation video on YouTube a little while back and it stated that the key to meditation is to become comfortable with natural sounds around you. It is never absolutely quiet and to meditate you have to adjust to that. You can hear somebody talking in the background but instead of forming thought after thought about that conversation, you have to notice that it’s there and let it merge with the other noises; birds, the neighbour’s kids, the ringing in the ears, and silence. Silence is a sound and to control thoughts is a powerful thing, something that I think we as humans are generally losing the instinct to do. In fact, we’re losing our instincts altogether, but that’s another conspiracy fuelled story.

I listened to the rain in that perceived state of mind. It felt like it helped me to listen to my inner self at a time when I feel like I desire some answers.

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