I walked out tonight into the rain.  Not far; just enough to feel the cool breeze and the soft sting of droplets from high above.  To see the steady streams falling in the light of the streetlamps, splashing onto the ground.  It was something I needed – and something I needed to share.  A dear friend of mine is hurting tonight.  Today, she had to bundle up her friend, take her to the veterinarian, and have them end a life of ever-increasing pain.  And while I would have comforted as much I could in any case, my friend’s pain is close to my own heart, for I’ve had to do the same.  I’ve written about it before.

When the rain started, I counseled my friend to go listen.  It is one of the most therapeutic things on the planet.  Scientifically, it is largely white noise.  White noise is across the audible spectrum, and for some reason, the sound permeates our mind upon hearing it.  It is a sound we’ve evolved to over hundreds of thousands of years.  It is a sound that each of us knows – and no matter the depth of the storm, when it ends, we know the world will be a little bit cleaner.  A bit softer.  More ready to grow.  It washes away a lot that has built up over time, or that we’ve stacked up on top of even more.  It cools, it refreshes, it slakes the thirst of that which has become too dry, too parched.  And it comes as a release.  The clouds above have been holding it in, and finally, when they are too full, they shower it on the lands and the beings below.

Rain works on us.  Just like the tears in our eyes do.  “Tears from the sky to match my own.”  Rain washes it away.   Rain helps us grow.   Rain helps us remember the good, and move on.

I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
‘Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
‘Twill be a lovely sight.

— William Henry Davies