I am learning the art of allowing
My neighbour told me yesterday, looking up at the sky,
that it was a rotten day with all the rain
but rainy days aren’t rotten if you like the rain
the refreshing moistness in the air, all the leaf cells
straining to drink in sustenance, becoming
exquisitely verdant, becoming more themselves
than they ever could without the rain, the clouds,
the overcast, the high pressure systems, pushing plants
to yield more of themselves to the world around them.
have you ever danced in the rain?
I was wearing my son in a sling, sweet hydrophilic babe,
we walked from the far end of the island toward the ferry docks
to get back to the mainland. skies opened upon us
and instead of running, trying to dodge fat drops
plummeting from the cloud coverage, I slowed.
We slowed. I took my shoes off.
The summer sun had warmed the pavement
and the water flooded over its surface, coming up,
nearly to my ankles, in some places
Wading back to the boat, I let myself play,
let myself open to the rain, let myself enjoy the beauty of it
cascading down my face, down my arms
letting myself not escape it.
There was a cellist in the subway today
resonant vibration of string pulling against
string the friction of it filling my heart as I passed.
I stopped, fished out some money, and
instead of rushing off, I allowed myself to slow
I allowed myself to drink in those beautiful tones.
When he paused his playing, I placed the money
in his case, thanked him and wandered slowly away
to where I thought I was going, but the goal is the journey,
and the cellist helped me remember that. It’s not about
getting there; it’s about being where you already are.
So what if you don’t like the rain? Onto each life,
some rain must fall and that’s not a bad thing
if you’re wearing the right clothes or the right
frame of mind because it’s only really our thinking
that holds us back ,it’s only our thinking that says
this is bad and that is good. it’s only stories we
tell ourselves and if we have the power to tell one
type of story, we have the power to tell any type of story.
Salmon swim upstream to spawn and do they
ever wonder if it’s worth the trouble? do they
ever wish they didn’t need to struggle so
hard against the current to bring forth a new
generation? or do they simply understand that
this is what needs to be done, that this is exactly
what needs to happen in order for newness to spring forth
This rain, this effort, this story we tell ourselves
about it all… this swimming against the current
of how we think we should be in order to be
who we really are, allowing myself to be
who I really am, this allowing lets me
really dive deeply into myself and create
newness from the struggle, to become
emboldened as my efforts snowball into a
momentum of momentous joy
we are all, so many of us, buds beset with fear,
too afraid to open ourselves to the world
so beset with fear, some of us, that we are
too afraid to open to ourselves.
a world without the fragrance of flowers
without the bursting forth of colour, without
the riotous joy of unselfconscious confidence
the art of allowing is the unbinding of fear
I am becoming skilled at unwinding