The Light Between Storms
The simple song of steady rain on the roof is one of my favorite winter melodies. Its nurturing voice sings to all who need water for sustenance: trees, plants, animals, humanity, the soil itself. Rain sings me sweetly to sleep, a comforting lullaby.
Rain is also a song of relief, after years of drought, seasons of wildfire. To me, steady rain and rushing creeks sing of abundance. They’re hymns of celebration, praising the grace of a planet where that liquid abundance has mothered life for four billion years. Just to be born on such a world is a miracle.
Our local abundance is at flood stage after nearly nine inches of rain this week, though. The rain songs have been fiercely turbulent, with thundering electrical strikes. Raging winds and torrents have inspired more sleepless questions than rest.
They’re vital questions for all of us, though. When storms arrive, or when they don’t, how do we handle their presence or lack? When we’re given turbulence in climate, society, family, soul, what do we sing to the earth in return?
When a momentary pause between storms finally arrives, I go out to listen for quiet guidance. When sunlight rays break through the remnants of clouds, they sing as eloquently as rain.
Storms and sun rays both sing of equanimity. They invite us to rise beyond calling sunny weather “good,” and rainy weather “bad.” I love the local adage, “There’s no bad weather, only bad rain gear.” I watch the forests thrive in the rain. Others who embrace the storms thrive too, knowing rain is as vital as sun. I’ve found the same with our embrace of the balance of illness and healing, loss and growth, conflict and resolution, other rich challenges of extremes. We’re all living storms, and the light between.
To be the light between storms is one aim of equanimity. To be the abundant light within storms, not just between them, is another. It’s our challenge to bring to light the beauty in darkness; to see how the challenges we face, including our shadow selves, can be transformed with compassionate embrace. I believe we’re all more capable of this than our doubts claim. I’ve seen how many people rise to the occasion, when doubts and difficulties are greatest. Any steady peace and comfort we can offer each other then is a song of abundance too—one especially needed at the times it seems least justified.
As a wild new year begins, we’re all vulnerable to whatever societal storms arrive. Whatever greets us, let us affirm the grace of the light and the beauty within each other. Our focus on present beauty always grows more of it. To sing of the light brightens it. To sing of the richness of the dark lessens our fight against it. To sing together, regardless, is the best way I know to turn another new year into music. Let the year ahead be another song that celebrates the light within and between storms. Let the hard night rain on the roof sing again of the earth’s miraculous, persistent life.