"Here Comes The Rain Again, Falling From The Stars..."

I'll admit I feel bad right now. I've been neglecting the blog, my manuscript has been shunted to the sidelines and poor John and Rose are a wee bit lost in their own sense. I've just been swamped with work and as a result, have been manically uninspired for words for the past couple of weeks. So it's just been me and potloads of design work alternating with the house swarming with guests, while I'm listening to mood music.

Yes, I like sad music. In the words of Sally Sparrow, 'sad is happy for deep people'. It's also a good backdrop for the rains. We've been lashed by a number of successive thunderstorms for the past week or so, alternating very juxtapositioned-ish-ly be bright sunshine. Mad, mad, mad.  The big men upstairs have got an odd sense of humor. 

But really, when the skies are dark and the house is quiet and the only sounds otherwise are the hum of the rain and the occasional rumble of the thunder's laugh, such haunting songs stir something wonderful right in the heart. My personal favorite right now is 'What If The Storm Ends' by Snow Patrol, followed by 'Running Up That Hill' by Placebo. Anything by Audiomachine or Adrian von Zeigler also places well. And Ramin Djawadi's 'Game of Thrones' soundtrack.

No matter what angle we see it in, what emotion we choose to associate it with, there is just something about the rains. For a good number of people, it can be an annoyance, especially when roadblocks and potholes come into question. For others, the constantly dull grey skies are outright depressing, because, honestly, who can dream of getting any work done when all you want to do is curl up in a comforter and sleep? For some others, the monsoon is a joy, a release, a reason to ditch any work to just go out and lose yourself in the rain.

For any person who has the heart of a poet, whether he/she is secretive about it or not, the rain is a common theme used, associated with a myriad of moods and emotions. The rain is a poet’s muse, a director’s set, a painter’s subject, a photographer’s shot. It is the most oft used and most inspiring subject for poetry in all its forms, whether it be through words, paints, cameras, dance, music or one of the many others that would take too much of the page if I listed out.

If we stocked the number of movie song sequences and climax scenes that take place in the rain, whether for a romantic mood, a scene of sorrow or just as accompaniment for epic music, we’d have a stack a mile high. When Vera Farmiga in ‘The Boy in the Striped Pajamas’ discovered that her son had been killed in the gas chambers in Auschwitz, the rain poured from the skies to mix with her tears as she screamed her anguish. When Tim Robbins in ‘The Shawshank Redemption’ waded out of the prison sewer, tore off his overshirt and leaned back to spread his arms out, the rain fell upon him as a symbol of his release. 

Almost every old crime movie and a good number of Hercule Poirot-ish stories would involve a scary, mostly-empty mansions and a violent storm that would conveniently prevent all inhabitants from escaping. There would be a million and one love songs out there that would have either been shot in the rain or used the rain as a theme. There always is that age old cliché about the kiss in the rain, be it as old as ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’ or more recentish, like ‘The Notebook’ or ‘Step Up 2: The Streets’. I personally wrote a little prose piece once, describing the Earth and Sky as lovers of old and the storms as their passion.

But what is it about the rain that evokes these kinds of emotions in us? Why do we feel connected to the rain, whether by moods of anguish, love, happiness, release, power, fear or anything else it may inspire in us? Maybe it has something to do with our inherent connection to nature. Maybe it has something to do with the way music stirs something in us, the rain being nature’s method of song. Maybe it has something to do with our unconscious love for anything that is beautiful. Whatever be our reason, the rain makes us feel. We love its gentleness like we would a close companion’s, we fear its wrath like we would a God’s. We revel in it like the earth does, we look to it for comfort as the skies cry along with us during hard times. The rain has a soul that twists and meanders like a human’s, which is probably why we relate to it so well.

Right now, October is yet to completely wane and we still have the months of November and December to pray for some good rains. Since I don't get snow where I come from, I'll settle for some good thunderstorms. Next time there’s a gentle drizzle, throw away your umbrellas and inhibitions and step out into the rain. Let it wash over you, cleanse you of your burdens. Let your heart match the thunder, your eyes be the lightning and your breath match the wind. There can be no better way to connect to nature, unless I get to come face to face with a wolf, which I don't see happening too easily right now.

And when you’re doing that, don’t worry about catching a cold or ruining your hair; a little water never hurt anyone. Just avoid mud on your feet once you come back inside. Then, you might just have something to genuinely be afraid of.