November 22, 2016 - San Francisco, CA - 11:31PM
I'm awake listening to the sound of rain, fully-aware of her polite celebration as she softly hits the ground. She puts up a show for all those who are awake at this hour, and puts others to sleep with her melodious lullaby. She's confident, gentle, and graceful with her demeanor as she makes sure that each raindrop is orchestrated to her kind energy.
I lay in bed mesmerized and a memory of my childhood comes through. I see a twelve year old listening to one of the world's most powerful thunderstorms in Kinshasa, D.R.Congo as she tosses and turns in her bed. The thunderstorms get louder and the rain pounds on the wet ground, endorsing the forms of power, hunger, and neediness. Nature's relationship with man is in despair. Each thunderstorm brings forth fear, but the child feels grateful that the roof is strong to bare tension from the rain.
My attention returns to the present as the rain softly makes an exit. She is now performing a delicate finale as each drop synchronizes with the earth through the assistance of air and space. How did she manage to tune each note so perfectly? It feels mystical.