I am sitting in my favorite Athol diner, having breakfast. Shortly I will be leaving to drive into Boston to meet a client. When we are done, I’ll wander around Boston a while with my camera, weather permitting.
You see, they are predicting thunderstorms this afternoon. Big red alerts on my iPhone warn me of impending disaster, flooding, and rain. Of course, that’s their job, to work us into a frenzy so we check our apps, watch the weather channel and expose our eyeballs to all those ads, worrying about the weather.
How often do we say that? “Weather permitting?” As if the weather had anything to do with it.
The truth is, most of the time, it doesn’t. If it rains, I take an umbrella or spend my time in a coffee shop. I’ll take pictures in a museum instead of on the city streets. I might get wet.
That’s OK. I’ve been wet before. I’m not sugar. I don’t melt. And other than a couple of clients, no one knows me in Boston. If I do my best drowned rat imitation, no one will care.
Or if I bail, I get home early. Not a bad thing. It’s been a long week.
Here’s the truth. It’s not “weather permitting”. It’s whether we are willing to push through the rain and find a way to enjoy it anyway, even if it was not what we expected. All weather does is change the dynamic. It will change the pictures I take. It will change whether I am hot and sweaty in the August heat, or wet and cool in the summer rain.
All the rain or no rain does is mess with my expectations. From that point on, it’s up to me.
Another one of those “the gig’s up” moments I have such a love-hate relationship with.
Because it’s not just the weather. It’s everything. We get dealt stuff. Good stuff. Bad stuff. And what we want to do is sluff it all off on the circumstance. On the weather. On what someone else did or didn’t do.
Don’t get me wrong, Outside things mess with us, trip us up, sometimes blow us up. That’s the truth. You don’t have to look hard to see the craters life has blown in my life. I am absolutely not where I thought I would be twenty years ago, or even five years ago. Stuff happens.
After that? it’s up to us. Do we find a way to dance in the rain? Or crawl in a hole and wait for the storm? Do we change our path when the road washes out, or pull to the side and hope the flood doesn’t reach us? Do we battle our depression, our angers, our fears, or become victims to them? Do we move forward through the muck, or do we stay stuck?
It’s not the weather.
OK, this is not what I expected to write when I sat down with my cup of coffee and omelet. I was going to write a cute little lyrical poem about rain. So much for that. It turned into something of a diary entry instead.
That’s the way the muse dances.
Be well. Travel wisely. Dance in the rain. It’s good for you. even if you dance like a dad (like I do.)
PS – for those of you who like my photographs more than my poems, today’s picture is not processed in any way.