Today I Danced in the Rain

I am taking part in this new project on binduwiles.com called 21.5.800. Participants write 800 words per day for the 21 days and do yoga for 5 out of each 7 days. Since I have just begun doing Yoga again after taking a few years off and since I really need to get back to the daily writing routine I seem to never have managed to keep up, I think this is a fabulous project to partake in. For more information visit binduwiles.com.

Today I danced in the rain –  swirled and twirled through large, plush rain drops, held my face to the burgeoning sky, mouth wide open, and allowed its nourishment to cleanse me. It is something I have been visualizing in my mind’s eye for a while now. When I was a little girl growing up in Orlando, Florida, I used to play outside in the hurricanes. The rains were torrential and I would stand in the middle of the street letting the healing power of rain wash over me. I would disappear within the sheets of rain and blustery winds no longer the abused little girl but instead a rain goddess, a part of something bigger and more powerful than my tiny, broken spirit.

I wrote a poem about this experience entitled “Remnants of a Hurricane” and you can read it here: http://southeastreview.org/2009/bryant0420.php

As I navigate my way through the maze that is my past, the need to be cleansed by the rain has become greater and greater. I could see myself hands outstretched from my sides twirling like a ballerina, face to the sky, letting the diamond drops wash away the brokenness. Today as I was walking with my boys at the park it began to rain. Everyone in the park ran to take cover, but I continued to walk the trail. My oldest son complained about getting wet and ruining his clothes and his cell phone. My youngest son had a devilish grin on his face but was trying to conceal his excitement in order to stay in line with what his brother wanted. As they stood under the nearby shelter, I walked right past them and just kept going. Eventually they followed. By the time the rain began to pour down there was no shelter nearby. I stopped and let the rain drench my clothes, my hair, and my skin. I let the rain wash away the pain.

Why is it that we are so afraid to let go, to embrace our childlike wonder? Why do we say: I don’t want to get my hair wet? I don’t want my makeup to run? What if someone sees me twirling around dancing in the rain? What will they think? I don’t want my clothes to get wet? What other excuses do we use to keep ourselves adult and responsible and safely within the box adulthood has imprisoned us in?

I laughed with pure guilt-free joy for the first time in many years as the rain came down. I watched my youngest son dance and the smile on his face was priceless. He began puddle jumping, getting covered with mud and drenching his brand new shoes and socks, going back and re-attacking a puddle if he hadn’t landed just in the center for optimal splash. It was the most freeing experience I have had since childhood and judging from the look on his face, he too experienced a sense of complete freedom from rules and conformity.

I need more of these moments. More moments of letting go of the responsible adult. More moments of letting go of what other people might think of me. More moments of letting go of the limitations I have set for myself. I need more moments of making my visions come to life. I stood still and turned my face towards the sky, let the drops plunge onto my face feeling each small sting. Feeling. Rain. In the moment. There was nothing else there but me and the rain. I raised my hands to the sky and welcomed the cleansing, welcomed the freedom, welcomed the manifestation of a vision into reality. I was wholly in the moment and nothing else mattered. The pain that had been gripping me for two days washed away. The fears disappeared. For that moment I was completely free from the chains that have kept me bound and unable to move forward for so many years. They disintegrated from the weight of the rain.

I hope that you, too, will find the thing you most want to do, but are afraid to do and will as Nike says, JUST DO IT. I hope you won’t let the opinions of others stop you from fulfilling the vision you have for yourself. What is it that would be most freeing in this moment for you? Find a way to make it happen. Visualize it. Manifest it. Live it.

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The Southeast Review Writing Regimen

So, I signed up for The Southeast Review Writing Regimen and it is spectacular. I really love having the writing inspirations e-mailed to me each morning. When I wake up it is the first thing I read and it gets me in the mood to create. The first RIFF word they gave us was SPRING on March 1st. Below is my stream of consciousness from SPRING. I think it led to some really interesting insights and definitely towards a deeper part of me at the end. I hope you enjoy. Beware, though, it is completely unedited.

Spring

Rebirth, reborn, warm breezes, green leaves, beauty, non-depressed. Springing forward in time and in life. A time for starting new things and letting go of old clingy things. Spring cleaning. Spring to life. I need spring it is one of my favorite times of year. A time for carelessness and diving in thoughtlessly where fall is a time for contemplation. Winter is the death of the mind and the soul. Hibernation. Spring out of hibernation. Spring forth with a new body, a new outlook on life, a new life. Revamp the old and tired. Becoming new, a new person, a new life, a new entity. Starting over, letting go, airing out, the house, opening the windows, letting the sun into the shadows of winter, chasing out the winter death and dust. Parks, glistening green grass, the sound of squeaking swings. Love, renewal, a second chance. Children playing, released from the winter trap. Abundance of energy and sunshine, warmth, Vitamin D, tanned skin, happiness, freedom from winter chains. More public, less recluse. Short sleeves and shorts, breezes against my legs, into my shirt, into my shorts. Airing out the old and decrepit. Rain, cleansing, flowers blooming, windshield wipers, cleaning salt off of the car. Clear blue skies with warmth to match. Dreams of second chances. Dreams of the unimaginable and unattainable in winter. Bringing forth new life, new chances, freedom. A time for letting go of limitations, of breaking free from degrading thoughts. A chance to air out the ego. A chance to start over once again, to repair all the damage that has been done in winter. Bring forth newness, new chances, new life, new everything. Air out the old musty home breeding germs, sickness, reclusiveness. Step out in to the sun-filled world with warmth, breeze, the smell of new flowers, the rainbows of colors, the cleansing rain, the brilliant green grass, bare feet, reading in the lawn chair, life renewed, hope renewed, old dregs of winter packed away. Nakedness, vulnerability, putting myself out there. Connections with others, connections with new life, connections with renewal of life. Smell of impending rain, softness of grass, smell of freshly cut grass, grittiness of feet on driveway, multi-colored umbrellas, smelling roses and fresh cut flowers, smelling the gardens, the animals, the cat urine. Shedding of skin, a renewal. The smell of all that is fresh and new. Sundried laundry. Rainfilled clouds. Fresh dew in the early dawn. The smell of new life being formed, forced into existence. The smell of fruits, fruity smells. The need for supple, soft, skin, to slough off the harsh winter dried flaky skin. An unveiling of the face to the brilliance of the sun and the cleansing rain and the warm inviting breeze. The sounds of birds, returned, reinvigorated, singing love songs to my ears. Waking me at dawn to catch the sun rising over the horizon in brilliant oranges, pinks, blues, yellows, purples, a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, smells, intertwine to create Spring. The spring, the spring in my step, the spring in my mind, the spring in my hope, the spring necessary to move forward and let go of the darkness I came from. Rebirth, renewal, re: new all.

I spend my life asking: what can I cut out, what can I cut out? What would make me simpler, less of the complicated person that I am. What memories can I cut out, what experiences cut from the pages of my life would make my mind sleep at night, would make my life bearable. Could I cut out a new silhouette, a new me, with a new body, new mind, new heart? Maybe I can cut and reshape who I already am, removing all the excesses – the food, the drink, the sex, the cigarettes, all those things that made life bearable. Without all the memories, would I need all the excesses? Ah, to cut, to make new, to remove the dead weight from my thinning bones. Ah, to cut away the pain and the shame to bring forth a new, revised version of the me I loathe. Ah, to cut away at the loathsomeness of my self would be to free the imprisoned child that lurks beneath the surface waiting patiently for the permission to speak, the child who has never spoken, the child who was silenced before she could ever speak. Ah, that kind of freedom. What would I cut away to find that kind of freedom. What can I cut out, what can I cut out to bring about that kind of freedom?

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