Haiku — 0046: Rain

The two sides of experiencing a rainy day.

One of the things about living in the Netherlands is, that we can not run away from monsoons. Be it a winter day of five degrees, or a cool spring of 17 degrees, rain is constant. As are the, shall we say, effects?

Bountiful soaking,

Clouded, dark, chillingly wet,

A day of monsoon.

Continuing the rainy day talk, the first thing in my mind was the negative emotion that I tried to capture in the second line — That of a clouded day, bringing down the spirits, a dark day on top of a sleep-deprived night, running to catch a train that would never reach Amsterdam on time, you can imagine the chilling effect this can have.

It was easy to be displeased with this rain.

But then, I keep thinking of the days of the old. Those days in the mid-2000s, when we had to take our bicycles, tie up these water vessels on each side, go from one community water tank to the next before sunrise, and make the whole day through for four people with fifty or seventy-five liters of water — Including cooking, washing, bathing, and drinking. That left such a strong impression that I compulsively corrected my mind from thinking anything negative about rain.

This leads to the second thing in my mind, the stronger lived experience, which tells me that rain is bountiful, something to be celebrated and endured, for it is the gift that keeps on giving, the bringer of life, the mark of fertility, both of land and life.

Typical monsoon day thoughts, as I sneeze through the keystrokes.

Yesterday’s Haiku —

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