Nothing grows without the rain. It washes away. It nourishes. It sustains life. Anyone who isn’t enjoying the rain is either dead or finding it through some other, filtered, managed, controlled means.
So that’s the question: How do you want your rain? How do you want your life? Filtered, packaged in a bottle with a pretty label, and costing more than many people have for all of their sustenance for an entire week? Or straight out of the sky, scooped out of rivers, falling down your face, and dripping off the ends of your hair, mixed in with fits of laughter, impromptu races where the winner doesn’t matter, and faded t-shirts clinging to the heaving, breathing, living, satisfied chests of children?
(This was inspired as a response to some beautiful words about finding oneself again.)