Erratic days, torrential rains and turbulence are staples of a good life. It is never all sunshine, but what do you do when things seem out of place and off balance? Well, you do what people have done for thousands of years: make yourself a cup of tea or coffee or whatever warm drink you prefer, sit by the window, and wait. There is little to do during a downpour, but this is often an excuse to do the most important thing: take stock, rest, and reflect. Someone I once worked with told me the apparent end—the last hour of the day, the end of the week, or the month—is often an excellent moment to tally things up. It is auspicious for me that today is as close to all three of them as it can get, that today is erratic and the rain has not stopped since the morning, and what of the turbulence? Life is rarely a smooth sailing ship.
Here I sit, looking out at the rain, taking stock. I watch each drop falling on the sill of the balcony or the railing washed a thousand times over by the rain, only to destroy itself on impact. How fast time passes, and how little time we get to adjust lest we implode on our own when we land! Time has indeed passed, and as I sit here, I think about how everything is about time. Sometimes, time passes so quickly that we trick ourselves into believing we have adjusted well to all that has changed. But slowly, and with absolute certainty, the veil of delusion lifts, and we see how it will always be a chore, an exercise to do. No matter how well we think we know our time and how well we live our lives, there is always a moment that tells us there is more to learn than we think and that life can always be lived just a tad bit better.
Each drop is a visual echo starting from the light that enters my eyes, slowly turning into a jarring warning, creating a sort of siren in my head. Each drop says only one thing: there is more to do, more to learn, and more to understand. I listen ardently and take note. The day inches toward its end. The warning continues pattering outside.