Rain

The snow is silent and doesn't whine, until you listen closer and then it is a barrage of small, stinging complaints with great power. I prefer the rain. Right now in my life there is nothing that rain does that is helpful- I don't have a garden, I don't use it for water. None of the properties of rain help me. However, I still feel exhilerated when it rains. I feel this exhiliration whether I am indoors or traveling somewhere outdoors and hearing the hammer of rain strike me. The rain is soft and gentle like a lover.
Someone I know made a comment about how a book wasn't good because it wasn't moral, and now I don't want to write as much because I know my writing sounds moral and is overmuch about right and wrong. I listened to her too much. I am full of comlaints right now about myself. It's so hard for me to get started on anything, every minute I feel like a big hand is throwing dirt on me. I love the rain because it tells me which direction to grow, what amazing things lie in store in the heavens, and just generally which way is up when I am groping in chaos. It's a visceral thing, a small appreciation of the earth and weather, that I am glad is part of being a human being.