Ever since I lived on Vancouver Island, there is just something so comforting about the rain. The sound it makes when it hits the window, the smell that it creates, and everything that it washes away. I look forward to wet, rainy days, more so than sunny, hot days. I'm not talking about sun showers, I'm talking the grey, overcast, gloomy days. Does that make me the weirdest human ever?
So this morning, my alarm was set nice and early, as I had to get up to teach a morning dog class. With the mass amounts of rain, the class was cancelled (it would have been unsafe to do this class in the rain, as it's our hiking class!), so I rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep. I listened to the whoosh of the cars driving by and thought, "man, it must really be pouring". I was tossing and turning, and I didn't want to wake Sean. So I came downstairs. I thought to myself, I'll just catch up on some emails while I have my coffee, then I'll start my day.
I deliberately didn't turn any lights on. Again, there is something so eery and comforting about the gloom of the sky, and the light it brought in to my kitchen. I poured myself a hot cup of coffee, grabbed a blanket and came to the couch. Instead of starting emails, or scrolling Facebook, I literally sat.
The thoughts running through my head, they were weird. How warm did this cup of coffee feel on hands, on my legs. How weird a soft blanket felt against the goosebumps on my legs. Again, the sound of the cars whooshing by. I thought about how nice it would be to just sit on the couch, all day, and do nothing. I thought about how the silence was oddly comforting, and how for the first time in a week or so, I felt uncomfortable. Then I thought, man, I'm moody today.
That's when it hit me. Why do I love this weather so much? Time seems to move slower, my movements, more deliberate, my thoughts, almost more precise. We learn in BodyTalk that every emotion has a purpose in our body, for without emotions we can't achieve certain movements. Sadness, in particular, allows us to feel empathy. Think of it like a comparison: how do we know what happiness feels like, if we've never experienced sadness? There are issues with both extremes, chronic sadness can look like depression, and chronic happiness can be manic.
The last few weeks I'll admit it, I've had lots on my mind, worries that have been consuming my brain, and instead of sitting and mulling through them, to see how to move forward, I've ignored them and just kept myself (extremely) busy. I've worked with clients, written blogs, attended expos, met up with friends, I even binge watched an entire series on Netflix in about two days. (Okay nobody panic it was a mini series...). For the first time in weeks, I woke up, and with a little help from the rain, I was able to listen to my thoughts. With time moving slower, I thought things through. Any little worry that entered my mind, I invited it in, listened to it. Let it say what it needed to, and thought for a moment on why it was there. What was the outcome I needed to achieve?
Instead of repressing any worries or fears I've been experiencing the last few weeks, this morning, I felt them. Why is family health weighing on my mind? What is an outcome that is in my control, or more likely, what am I trying to control that I can't? How can I rectify any credit card debt that worries me? What will this person think if I truly do speak my mind? How can I let go of any control issues I'm having over it?
At the end of all the mulling, stewing, and listening, I focused in on my surroundings, and smiled when I heard the whoosh of the rain outside.