No one can deny the beauty of a downpour. When we’re stripped of responsibilities, redundancies, and all things that cloud our tired souls – taking in the rain is truly wonderful. Feeling it. Listening to it. Reveling in it. There is nothing to take away from the moment other than its simplicity.
But there is also this:
Think of each singular raindrop. Not the raindrops you see in stock photos. Not the perfectly shaped illustrations in cartoons and tattoos. Think of an individual raindrop as he falls alongside his peers onto your skin, to your feet, and to the floor. Think of the long journey down. Think of how many times that one raindrop changed its shape through its descent. Think of how many liquid silhouettes were molded by the wind. How many manipulated curvatures and bends. Think of how many times the small architecture of water evolved. The many different forms it took. How many different ways before it hit the ground.
We never think of rain this way. We never think of a single drop unless we're studying hydrology or conveying an emotion. We are never so observant because we are unbothered by the irregularities, and the wavering nature of each lone bead. We accept it, we are okay with it, we are there to enjoy it all. To collect the raindrops in bulk, effortlessly. Conscious of only the body of water beating against ours. It is really rather perfect.
Why can't we accept humans this way? No matter how many times, or how many different ways, we change size and shape? Why can't we accept each spirit as the ever-changing, ever-evolving being that it is? As we move through the winds and the forces of our lives, fitting into the fluctuating forms and figures, becoming who we are, and who we were always meant to be, before we hit the ground.
No one can deny the beauty of a downpour. Let us never forget the beauty of human existence.