Rain, rain, rain

It seems the rain has finally descended upon Portland and I am being fully introduced to true Pacific Northwest weather. I'm finding less and less purpose for the weather app on my phone, which always shows the same ominous rain cloud icon for every day, even though you never quite know how much of the day will be filled with rain and what that rain will be like. Will it pour? Will it be a steady drizzle throughout the day? Will the sun peek out in the afternoon? Each day is a bit of a guessing game.

When the rain first began here I will admit I was pretty discouraged. The planner in me did not mesh well with the uncertainty of what the days would bring, and my inner control freak didn't like the idea of having my life dictated by the sudden whims of the weather. But I also couldn't imagine not being annoyed with being soaked by rain during my daily commute, or not being miserable during a hike or walk in very wet weather.

A few weeks ago something changed for me. I woke up on a Saturday morning. My house was still quiet and the sky was the usual gray. Through the windows the rain looked pretty mild, so I decided to put on an extra layer and my most waterproof boots to venture to the park anyway. As I got deeper into the trails the rain started coming down harder and harder (of course, because you never know what to expect!). But I actually felt more and more energized as I kept on walking. Around every corner I found a new group of runners or family or solo walker, everyone outside enjoying the trees despite the weather. At one point I was walking by two girls when one of them said "I feel like I'm in the shower!" and I almost turned around to say "Me too!". And as I kept walking through the trails, encouraged by all the other people around me, the falling rain was this unfailing reminder of the place where I am. And suddenly I felt an overwhelming gratitude that I am exactly where I am.

Between the imposing trees and the rain, nature is kind of in your face in the Pacific Northwest. It's hard to ignore and is constantly calling for your attention. I've always had this concern about moving through my life on cruise control without actually noticing it. The nature here helps me remember to notice.

During my yoga teacher training in the fall someone shared a phrase that has stuck with me; adapted from a Longfellow quote, she said "when it rains, let it". It has taken on a very literal meaning lately and has become a sort of mantra I repeat to myself whenever I feel my weather-related frustration start to brew. I've realized that to let it rain does not mean to sit inside and mope about my lack of control. It means to accept the rain as fact, and then to continue on anyway. To take in the beauty of the trees in the park even if it means getting a little soggy. To pull up my hood while I'm waiting for the bus, and breathe the air deeply, and feel a little thanks. And on the days when the rain really is too unbearable to brave, I've come to find more love for my new indoor happys--because spending the afternoon reading inside really is that much better with the sound of the rain.

I think the steadiness of the rain is now growing to be something of comfort to me, no longer something I am spending so much energy trying to fight against. The hours when the sun does peek out feel so much more special now.