An Allegory In Two Parts
Re-Emergence:
Who would have thought I’d feel like such a rule-breaker for having a scone and a cup of coffee. Yet there I was, delighting in these things while idling in the cocoon of my car on the city street, seeing people — people!—walk by, jog by, drive by.
Walking In The Rain:
What an opportunity it is, to walk in the rain. Why walk in the rain? When the sky is grey and streaked with scudding rainclouds pissing on the earth, or hammering, or misting, or any form of rain you wish, it seems a waste not to walk just because of a little moisture. If rain is what the day has to offer, when rain is what is being dished up, hell, revel in it, that’s what I say. It’s really not a good enough excuse to stay indoors. It’s no Great Interrupter, rain. Not if you don’t let it be.
I was in this neighborhood five weeks ago purchasing a cookpot in support of a nonprofit who reaped the benefit of sales that day at a trendy kitchen shop. It shattered on the first use. Today, tired of seeing the remains linger on the passenger seat awaiting return, I drove again into the city to exchange it.
How to walk in the rain: dress for it. Or go ahead and just get wet, if it’s warm enough. No one ever melted from the rain. Wear a brimmed hat against raindrops on eyeglass lenses. Bring gloves, if there’s a chill. Good wet-weather footgear is nice, but not essential.
For once, I’m not in a rush, not in a headlong rush to get through a long list of errands. I have nowhere, really, to go after this, except home, back to my coronavirus bunker. So I sit in my parked car, watching the world go by. For a few minutes here on this street, I am reminded of a dim, forgotten notion of busy-ness, of movement, of life beyond my bubble.
A proper walk in the rain is not the same as dashing from one dry haven to another as if avoiding a terrible nuisance. This is not that. It is deliberate. Aware. Instinctual. It’s an invitation to a foreign world, or maybe just one that has been forgotten by the modern world. It’s okay. A rainy walk offers unanticipated rewards. I know this to be true. Walking in the rain is an unusual and welcome freedom, when you choose to let it be.
Departing the shop, I surprise myself, a little, by turning right to the next shop, a bakery. I don’t frequent this shop, since they serve items I typically don’t eat or drink. But today? Today I discover a delicious rise of feisty in my gut. I indulge in a complete diet breakdown.
Imagine the freedom of discovering that walking in the rain not only doesn’t hurt, it actually amplifies something neglected, something inner. The sensory overload is impressive. When you let it, it yields a deeply nourishing saturation of the senses.
Oh, the café latte! What a delightful departure from weeks of endless cups of tea. And oh, the cranberry-almond scone! The crisp, slightly buttery outside. The soft, chewy middle. The flavors. Delicious, in the special way of brief guilty pleasures that can then be set aside again with no blame or nonsense.
Listen, as you walk. Hear the voices in the treetops, in the foliage. The whispers of events beyond the usual human things. There are secrets being told. There is information. And the smells! Set free by the rain, the surroundings exclaim a certain joy. A hundred million awakening pores unleashed by the moisture spill earthy fragrances. The cadence of footfall is sometimes splashy, sometimes squishy, always muted.
I sit in my car-cocoon at the curb of this bustling street taking my sweet time. Many minutes later and in spite of the lingering scent of sanitizer when I raise my hand to my mouth, I still savor both scone and coffee.
I know how to go out into the elements. I know how to move through them toward a known conclusion, back to the warm and dry. It’s not the same as just staying inside, looking out, wishing for the rain to stop. I love to be out there, and I also love to be done with a walk in the rain. I can’t earn the finish until after that first wet, weathery part. Storms pass. Things dry. There’s comfort in knowing that even if I could control it, I wouldn’t want to. I just want to know I know how to be in it, how to be there.
I didn’t expect to sit here. I didn’t expect to so relish this snack. I didn’t expect to feel a dozen conflicting emotions, just because I have run a single errand.
