Unexpected Showers

This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.

Today, I decide to bicycle a thick envelope across town for business. It has taken days, weeks even, to pull its contents and accompanying spreadsheets together. I straddle my vintage blue Centurion and embark with relief and joy on this final lap of the journey.

It’s spring. Bees are on the wing and daffodils wave their yellow hellos. I wear a raincoat, but rain is not in the forecast. I bike through the park with the sun on my cheeks. I remind myself to be present to my surroundings. I thank the trees for doing their work and shout hello to a massive flock of geese camped out on a soccer field. They honk back and my heart soars.

Skirting the edge of downtown, I attune to the sights and sounds of traffic and pedestrians. A cloud breaks as I dodge roadwork and head down through the river park. The rain begins to fall in earnest. It’s spring. I trust this downpour will lift soon, but it does not. I laugh. The rain falls in sheets, and my tires throw water back up to me as well. My jeans get sticky at the thigh. I feel a choice, with each revolution of my wheels, to retreat, to recoil from the rain, to feel the discomfort of the cold.

I do not. I lift my face to the rain. I am grateful for the life in falling water that is measured in inches and by the roots of trees who draw nourishment and protection that will last them through the fire season. I arrive at my destination and leave my paperwork with a puddle on the floor, apologetically.

Back on the path between showers, I snap a picture of my view through the raindrops on my glasses. A practice of joy transforms our vision of the rain. I am cold. I am wet. And I am also happy.

At home, I peel off my jeans, soaked front, back, and to the ankles. I step into a hot shower with bliss. May I meet all weather with love, whether the sun and storm is inside me or out.

When have unexpected showers brought delight? Can you see how your perception of rain affects your experience of it?