Do we reflect our weather? My mind comes back to this idea a lot recently. I’ve never lived in a place that rains so much. We’re taught symbolisms of rain when young wet, soggy, miserable… caged. And we internalize these circumstances deep down to our core, Dear, Reader. But life has this sneaky way of dictating our emotions, and often we can’t determine why this happens. But it’s funny I come back to this idea, again and again, are we what the weather beats us down to day in and day out, over and over? The pitter patter, clanking the window asking to enter without permission flowing from outer to inner being, the slightest touch, disruption on a microcosmic level reacting and re-reacting building towards a full-blown day ruiner.
But you know it’s hard when you take the time to watch the rain, to appreciate that it shifts and weaves in symbolisms, life-giving, refreshing… calming. And so my emotions pervade my thoughts this cross-section of intrusion trying to categorize and internalize where my brain and my body are misfiring, misunderstanding, and misreading each other.
I look outside and bemoan how I can’t create a sense of quietude using big words to eloquently describe with verbosity and relish, savoring the elongated words sliding from my illustrious cranium begging to be flexed like a cat preening its fur, languishing upon its thrown begging to be scratched.
Alas, it’s the simpler ideas that cut through a red haze seen through a vermillion gaze so hard to shrug off and alarming quietly as I ponder here aptly why, why, why?
Where is the imbalance, why isn’t it leveling out? Erratic shifting in and out of the fog, impermanent shapes looming in the mist, curiously permanent for the mystery of the unseen.
But that’s life right Dear, Reader we are the unseen, misunderstood pounding in our heads, unexplained and impartial to our musings.
Funny then isn’t it as I sit here watching the rain fall consistently wondering if I reflect the outside with the in?
Quiet chair,
Can you hear me
Soft dry tears running down, down, down
Wait.
Rain pours gently,
And so the outside becomes the
In.
Milkshake Thoughts 