In Praise of Rain

“Seven days from now I will send rain on the earth for forty days and forty nights, and I will wipe from the face of the earth every living creature I have made.”
God, Genesis 7:4

Greetings folks,

As of this writing, it’s been raining in New York, biblically, I might add, for 11 1/2 hours, with no end in sight. Diffused light, blurred shadows, contorted faces…obscured by the relentless downpour, mirror the city's collective frustration and impatience.

My neighbor, a former family court judge, present-day drunk and experimental poet belives that we’re finally getting what we deserve. He’s in full agreement with Travis Bickle (he’s not my favorite neighbor).

From biblical times to the modern era, rain has been depicted as both a source of life-giving nourishment and a harbinger of violence and negativity. In ancient texts, rain often symbolizes divine wrath or punishment, raining down upon the earth to cleanse or destroy. The story of Noah's Ark in the Bible, for instance, portrays rain as a means of divine judgment, flooding the earth to eradicate sin and corruption.

Throughout history, societies have experienced the devastating effects of violent rainstorms, from destructive floods to torrential downpours causing landslides and destruction. The negative impact of rain on agriculture, infrastructure, and human settlements has been well-documented, leading to loss of life and livelihoods.

According to Scott Weiss, a professor of Film History and Literature at St. Francis College in Brooklyn, NY,

“In literature and art, rain is frequently used to evoke melancholy, despair, and a sense of foreboding. From Shakespeare's tragedies to modern-day novels and films, rain often serves as a backdrop for scenes of conflict, sorrow, or turmoil. The relentless patter of raindrops against windows can create a feeling of isolation and unease, amplifying the emotional intensity of a narrative.”

Some folks are worried, some don’t give a shit, and others pretend it’s business as usual.

Yet, despite its destructive potential, rain also holds the promise of renewal and regeneration. In the aftermath of a storm, rainwater replenishes parched landscapes, revitalizing ecosystems and sustaining life.

photo by Luba Sokolina of Luel Restoration Studio

In ancient Mesopotamian mythology, for example, rain was associated with the god Enlil, who was considered the god of wind, air, earth, and storms. Rain was seen as a manifestation of his power and was essential for fertility and agricultural prosperity.

In ancient Egyptian mythology, rain was linked to various deities, including Osiris, the god of the afterlife and fertility, and Seth, the god of chaos and storms. Rainfall was crucial for the annual flooding of the Nile River, which brought fertile soil for agriculture.

In Hinduism, rain is often associated with Indra, the god of thunder, lightning, and rain. Indra is revered for his ability to control the weather and provide rain, which is essential for the well-being of society.

In Siberian shamanism, the natural world, including phenomena like rain, is often imbued with spiritual significance. Rain is seen as a manifestation of the spirit world's influence on the physical realm. It is believed that spirits, including those associated with water and weather, play a crucial role in bringing rain to nourish the earth and sustain life.

A harbinger of life or a force of destructon? It’s impossible to have one without the other. Across various religious traditions, the coexistence of good and evil shape the human experience. In Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, and countless other faiths, this duality is deeply ingrained in theological teachings, philosophical reflections, and cultural narratives. The concept of moral polarity underscores the complexity of existence, suggesting that the presence of one extreme necessitates the existence of its counterpart.

I leave you with a poem by the great, late Shel Silverstein:

Rain

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.

As always, thanks for reading and being a subscriber.

’Til next time,
ak