Last week I started a sanity preservation project. A tent in the back yard. After many weeks of no rain, the tent created a cosmic disturbance which brought rain to a drought stricken land. Torrents of wind, rain, and lightning I’m sure never came so quickly even to the shaman rain dancers of old. After the first flood, I waterproofed with mildly carcinogenic aerosol spray guaranteed to create a barrier. The next storm mocked my attempt to protect my sanctuary of tranquility. It pulled up my stakes and felled in the roof, and the rain came, a gallon more than the storm before. Once again, the tent stands erect and dry. More storms on the way. I won’t give up.
But there is something special about a bucket of rain. Different than a pail of tap water from a city plant. Reminded me of a song. If I can’t have tranquility outside, this music helps while I’m stuck inside the box of bricks we call a house.