When it rains let it rain

Autumn equinox bought the rain. When it rains here in Australia IT REALLY RAINS. Not the soft English drizzle that kisses your cheeks but a raging torrent of fat drops, drumming on the roof, leaking under the doorway and flooding the roads. When I came home last week I was greeted by a scattering of hail. Hard, white stones lining my herb garden, blinking innocently in the 30 degree sun. A little nod to the paradoxical nature of reality.

I also discovered the wonders of running in the rain. This came as shock, because I don’t run. I’ve always hated running I’ can’t run for more than 5 minutes’I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen.

I’ve attempted on multiple occasions because I’m infatuated with the idea of it. I used to watch people effortlessly jogging along the Coogee to Bondi coast track, hardly breaking a sweat, perfect ponytails bouncing in the wind. I’ve never got past the ‘wanting to vomit, getting a stitch, feeling like my lungs are on fire’ stage, until now.

It had been raining all day. I love being at home surrounded by my paints, my words and my books, but if I don’t feel my feet on the soft ground I start to get heavy and my brain turns to fog.

So I went out into the storm (the key to walking in the rain is wear as little clothes as possible and accept the fact you’re going to get drenched. When it rains, let it rain!)

I climbed down slippery steps and started running. This is weird, I thought, but I just kept going. I ran all the way up the beach almost to the windsock. I didn’t feel tired. I felt like I could run forever. I’ve finally made it!! I screamed to no-one. Eventually I stopped, calf muscles throbbing, sweat mingling with the warm spring rain. Of course, the beach was deserted so I dived naked into the churned cappuccino ocean.

I started to run back but the wind was against me. Ah it all makes sense now! That’s why it felt effortless. I’d been pushed along by this force of life, the force that is inside us all. How blessed we are we have water to cleanse us, wind to drive us forward, fire to warm and feed us. Earth to ground and nurture us. When you stay inside you can’t feel this. In disconnecting ourselves from the elements we’ve disconnected ourselves from love.

I walked back, shouting ‘thank you, I love you!’ to the gulls.

That evening the clouds started to disperse. The long forgotten sun broke through, pale at first, then so luminous, the whole world glittered. Is there any sweeter feeling than sun on skin? It’s been a few days now of bright blue skies, the autumn chill in the air. I measure the seasons in the sand. Summer heat and my feet burn, winter mornings and they turn to ice. ‘Smile and let go. It’s just life after all, and you’re doing it right, just by living.’

A pair of lorikeets sit in the gums, chattering away in their upside down language. When did we start taking ourselves so seriously? I go out into the forest and sit with my back against my beloved tree. She’s shaped like a human hand, with the ‘little finger’ draping precariously to the right. Her roots are so deep that of course she doesn’t fall. She’s beautiful. And a secret. She lives down this tiny path that no-one ever goes down. I visit her most days, transfixed by all the animals making a home in her boughs. Bright green caterpillars, a thousand kinds of ants burning gold and red, bright blue beetles that jump and huge sand flies that bite my ankles. Their bites hurt, but who am I to say they shouldn’t be there. This is their home more than mine, and they have a right to eat.

My yoga practice has taught me how to pay attention. How to be OK with not being OK. How to sit with the sometimes gnawing sense of dread that I’m failing, that I’m getting it wrong, that there’s not enough time. I take refuge in the Tantric texts with their colourful origin myths, so beautifully depicting the nature of reality. I feel humbled by this work. I pour my heart into every word, and sometimes the words don’t come, and sometimes the inspiration won’t flow and I feel frustrated and sad and lonely, but then I remember. What was life like before this? Before yoga? It feels like a barren wasteland in comparison.

I want to thank YOU. For reading these words. For believing in magic, just like I do. For having the courage to show up in your life, for having the hard conversations, for getting on your mat or your meditation cushion, for doing the inner work, for discovering your truth and then spreading that love into the world. For all that you do. Thank you.

‘Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”