Wednesday, July 28, 2010

I wish it would rain down, down on me

I want to live; I crave for sadness -

Against my bliss and love, in truth;

They sank my mind in idle gladness

And made my brow very smooth.

It's high time for life's derogation

To blow away the hazy peace;

What’s a poet’s life, void of desolation?

And what are void of tempests seas?

-Mikhail Lermontov, age 18

I watched an entire rainstorm from start to finish, curled up on the ledge of an open window 5 stories above the ground. From the sudden quieting of the birds, to the first big raindrops pinging the tin windowsill, to the people running for cover from the downpour, to the sun coming back out and everyone going back about their business.

There’s something about a rainstorm when there hasn’t been one for a while. It was a relief. It lasted about ten minutes, and I was sad when it was over. It was too quick -- I didn't have time to absorb the quiet that was almost sacred, when life stopped, people and animals disappeared, and it was just the elements, just the wind and the rain – and a couple standing on the path near the pond embracing. I watched them, imagining the double sensation of a kiss and the giant drops of rain on my face. I wanted to run out into the rain, too, to feel it on my hands, my face, my skin, my clothes, to gradually become completely wet.

I want to live! wrote Lermontov. I crave for sadness -

I want to live. Russians love suffering, Alla Vasilievna insists, because it’s part of happiness – indistinguishable from happiness – it’s part of life. I get that. I won’t go so far as to say I crave sadness in Lermontov’s madly romantic way, but I want to live, and to live completely. I want to feel it all, see it all, understand it all.

Now the construction workers are banging away again. Everyone’s out making noise and tinkering with the world again. I want to hold onto the feeling of the storm – the sensation of being alive again after a long hot spell. The presence in the solitude. The relief, peace, contentment, laced with a certain tingliness and excitement about what it all could mean – something new, something different, something dangerous.

1 comment:

Gilly said...

This is a beautiful post. I loved it - and it is raining here as I read it.