‘You are not a drop in the ocean, you are the entire ocean in a drop’. Rumi
I heard a rain drop fall in the night. I saw it’s shape in the moment of its dissolution in a darkness that sat inside and outside the tent. I wondered at the clarity and felt a slight shift from a sense of solitude to isolation with its tinge of fear.
More rain drops fell but with a spaciousness that set their uniqueness. Yet, I had a yearning for some clarity, a pattern I could call rain. A knowing that would find its way into a grounded sleep close in to elemental energy.
I wanted a story to be inside and yet, at the same time, I wanted to be outside where a new story was beginning. A rain drop joining another in the creation of a new shape.
As each drop fell, the vibrations picked up the background sound of the pounding Atlantic Ocean to the west and the gentle lapping of the inner waters of the archipelago to the east.
Orchestral water in a never ending movement to shape.
I have just found this beautiful and very apt poem written by David Whyte, Where Many Rivers Meet
Photo by Paul Wong on Unsplash