Monday Prompt

Welcoming the Gentle Rain of Tears that Cleanse my Heart

They’re the messengers of love and harbingers of hope I so need

I dreamed of rain and the rains came, Soft and easy, sweet and clear.

I dreamed of rain, and the rains came, and peace spread over the land.*

So begins one of my all-time favorite songs.

Numerous times, when Jan Garrett and JD Martin performed this song to standing ovations, their audience would step outside the concert all into, yo u guessed it, rain!

Weather is a great metaphor for the state of our souls. Be it our collective souls as the song alludes to with visions for freedom and peace.

Whether or not we love rainy days, and I do, there’s no mistaking how fresh and clean the air feels and smells after a good soaking.

If you live in a dry area like I do, rain is even more precious. Welcomed when it comes. Missed when it doesn’t. The land is parched, the crops are thirsty, and the fire danger rises during its absence.

Metaphorically, we are dry and parched from a steady spell of tension, stress, hatred, and violence.

Our souls long and thirst for sweet showers of peace.

Translating that to the personal level, my tears are my rain.

I’m not the kind of person who cries a lot.

And yet, I can cry at the drop of a hat. I can cry on command, meaning I can make myself cry, like if I’m in a play or something.

In other words, the tears are available. But I don’t always let them flow.

Till yesterday. (Diana, how did you know?)

Every Sunday, I write a post with a writing prompt for Middle-Pause, a publication I help edit. I was thinking to ask, what are you tracking? since I’m tracking water intake, novel editing, and some other goals. With the idea that what we track grows.

But then, at church, our guest speaker, affectionately known as “the Rev,” challenged us to learn or do something for eleven days — till Earth Day — supporting the environment. And why stop then?

I love a challenge!

So when it came time to write the post, the prompt question became — who is your favorite eco-heroine? I want to lift up the women who are saving the planet. First step — find out who they are, right?

So, after posing the question, I go first and share my answer. I found a website, SF Environment, with a list of about 30 women making a difference — most of whom I had never heard of!!! I plan to research one of them every day.

I scrolled in search of someone to feature in the prompt post. My curser stopped at the photo of a very old woman — we’re talking over 100 — as I recognized her name — Marjory Stoneman Douglas.

Of course — the school in Parkland, Florida. 34 kids shot or injured in 2018. Named after her.

I burst into tears.

All the time her name was in the news, I never bothered to learn who she was. Maybe I heard something or other about the Everglades.

Turns out not only did she save the Everglades from encroaching development, she was an early feminist, anti-racist, and suffragette. She died in 1998 at 108.

I wrote and cried, cried and wrote.

Thinking about what an unsung hero she was. Maybe it was just my ignorance, given I hadn’t heard of most of the women on that site. And thinking about the girls at Stoneman High inspired by her life — only to be shot down by a teenage shooter gone berserk.

These are healthy tears. I welcome them.

They get me back in my body. They get me back in my heart. They remind me I’ve been living in my head for too long. They’re the fresh rain bringing hope to my emotional desert.

Welcome tears! Welcome!

Crying is good for us. Tears are one of the ways the body detoxes, along with sweating and digestive eliminating. According to Medical News Today, crying relieves physical pain and emotional stress, elevates mood, and aids sleep. It also fights bacteria and improves vision. Whoda thunk?

After a good cry, my emotional air is clear and fresh like the outside air after a cleansing rain. Yes, the world is still the world. Another innocent black man was shot by the police in Minneapolis. When that many helicopters fly incessantly overhead, I know to check the news…

But my response is fresh now. I’m no longer numb. Bit by bit, I’m able to let more of the world’s pain into my being.

Yesterday, also at church, we sang, We are the World.

Remember from the 80s with Dione Warwick, Micheal Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, and others? We are the world, indeed. In the Oneness we teach, this has to be true. We, each of us, are the world. And also the Earth, our Mama Gaia.

But I tend to act like it’s not so. Even though I know it is, I don’t have space or time to be it, to live it, and especially, to feel it. But feeling it is key to being a stand for changing it. It comes with the territory.

As long as I keep the world at arm’s length for my so-called “sanity,” I’m on a holding pattern. I’m focused on my own little bubble. And COVID has made that so much easier to do.

Hooray for Isolation! I don’t have to acknowledge what’s going on, or even ask. I get to be comfortable in my what you don’t know can’t hurt you zone, right?

Comfort of this sort is an Illusion.

Do I want to be part of the problem? Or part of the solution?

I do want to be part of the solution. It starts in my heart. This gentle rain of tears allows me to shift out of my narrow perspective and see all the way to the horizon.

To put things in perspective. To hold the world in my heart — the pain and the healing. The violence and the peacemakers. The climate deniers and the eco-warriors.

My tears, like the rain, hit a refresh button. There’s a sweet, holy Softness to it all that holds and sustains me while I stretch and expand to hold more than I ever thought I could.

I see all the colors of the rainbow. I feel all the shades of love. I touch all the hues of hope. And my are they bright!

Please enjoy this song* by Jan Garrett and JD Martin and their story:

Thank you, 𝘋𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘊. for this refreshing prompt!

Marilyn Flower writes political humor and satire to delight socially and spiritually conscious folks. She’s a regular columnist for the prison newsletter, Freedom Anywhere, where she writes about faith and prayer. Five of her short plays have been produced in San Francisco. Clowning and improvisation strengthen her resolve during these crazy times. Stay in touch!