"rain . . . fills the woods with an immense and confused sound. It covers the flat roof of the cabin and its porch with insistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms I have not yet learned to recognize . . . What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone . . . cherished by this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself . . . Nobody started it, nobody is going to stop it. It will talk as long as it wants, this rain. As long as it talks I am going to listen."
That passage reminded me of when I used to sit on my little porch with its metal roof, listening to, watching the rain, smelling it, feeling it . . . what peace!! Now I can't do that, living in a high rise; but there are compensations. Living on the fourth floor, I can watch it from a different vantage point; I see the massiveness, the complexity, the beauty of the clouds more fully; I live right among the lightening and the rain blowing in the wind. Powerful, powerful, importantly humbling. Good for the soul or spirit or self . . .
In between promises and bouts of rain yesterday, I walked downtown: the image above is an example of what presented itself for meditation then.