deep breathes

I woke up yesterday to a humid, torrential downpour of rain, a leak in my ceiling and a sense of frustration. Newfoundland isn't known for its hot weather, per say, but this July has been particularly cold and wet. I spent all day getting soaked walking back and forth from work and fussing over the leak and tripping over cabin feverish cats who weren't allowed out into the maelstrom of wind and rain. I had forgotten to get groceries and was approaching a very crabby mood when suddenly the rain ceased and sunshine started peaking through the overhanging clouds. 

I had meant to write on this a couple weeks ago when we had another rainy day which led me to a (if not particularly profound) calming realization. Just like yesterday, this day was was an absolute wreckage of wind and rain but later in the evening I went to let out my yowling cat and realized the storm had lifted.
I stepped outside and was struck by bright sunlight filtering through the remnant fog and sparkling water droplets illuminating everything with late evening sunshine. Sitting there with a warm wind breezing over me, I felt something in me relax. 

~

Again, while this may not be a new or particularly enlightened observation it was a reminder of how similar this storm so easily parallels our own struggles. Particularly with Newfoundland weather, which never starts or stops when it's predicted to, I find life is similar. Difficult times, perpetual funks and gloomy hearts seem to last forever, until they don't. One day you wake up breathing a little easier and can marvel at the sunshine again.

As someone who sees more fog than daylight in the run of a year, I always make a point to mentally tuck away these warm days and moments of intention for days when the rain does return. Observe particular things about these days to scribble down and press between book pages to touch on later. A myriad of birdsong coming from wet trees. The particular petrichor that rises from the earth. Water laden plants, dancing with droplets of water. Families of baby ducks enjoying all the new puddles. The feeling of stripping off damp clothes and making tea and changing into pajamas. How silvery wet fields of tall grass look from a distance. Drifting to sleep with drone of water on window pane.

Maybe I am romanticizing it but at least I can find things to be grateful about. Everything is until it's not. And I'd rather focus on small moments of positivity than try vainly to make the dismal moments move faster. It's a waste of time and energy. I think we need to trust ourselves more to do what we do best persevere. I was struck reading a post somewhere that was a gentle reminder that at the end of the day, you are the one who carries you through dark times. No matter how messy, you find a way to come out the other side. Lamenting over the irretrievable keeps one stuck and takes away from the fact that the only thing that we can rely on is things to change and time to continue marching forward. Write letters to your future self, hide compassionate notes for you to find at a later date, anything to remind you that you will not be miserable forever.  That with enough kindness and trust unto yourself, you will indeed get by.  

xx.

r.