a quiet night in the rain

sometimes a man will hesitate to do things that well from deep within his heart. a denial of the physical translations of a basically emotional (an abstract mechanism) nature perhaps. i must admit that i have been guilty of this delinquency. many a days i've lain safe in my cocoon wanting to go outside in the rains. tonight, perhaps, i've redeemed at least that part of my personality. i must say, the feeling was as undescribable as ever; not to forget, incredible. i do not know, or perhaps do not understand, the process by which the inner emotional being wins out over the outer shell of rationale. i am just glad it did.

i walked out of my door alone at 3:15 am and just stood there in the rain, watching the drops slowly pitter patter down. i was quite amazed at myself for this act of juvenility. and i was amazed at this amazement. i could certainly have done this any other day or night i chose to. but why didnt i choose before? by before i refer to the time since i came to the US. a jolt of lightning followed by thunder woke me up from my reverie. i looked up into the sky. it was indescribably beautiful; in all senses of the word. the dull black-grey skin of the sky was revealing its marrow of white light; racing across the sky in wildy chaotic patterns. i even welcomed the bland afterimage it left on my retina as i closed my eyes to savor the moment. my heart leapt at the crackling sound of thunder, as it rolled from ear to ear. it wasnt just a reflex from the sudden loud noise that impinged on my senses; i was actually happy to hear it. i have often been, at different times, been compartmentalised into the category of romantics. i believe that this was different. it felt incredibly like being one with myself. i have been, ever since i can remember, fascinated by the tumultous aspects of nature. it just feels like home.

i started walking slowly, hands in pocket and head bent low. i dont think i consciously knew of where i was headed. in a few moments i found myself at the poolside. i looked up at the lamps hung around the pool, and small iridescent circles formed on my lenses. the riot of colors that exploded a few centimeters from my eyes was breathtaking. i let my eyes rove wildly across the lens, trying to capture all the water droplets on the lens. the sloshing sound of the soft plip plop of water droplets on the pool surface distracted me from this exercise. the normally even surface was broken into a million different ripples, each colliding with each other mid-wave which set off their own tremors. all this while i was totally unaware of the thorough drenching that i was receiving. i didnt, couldnt, feel wet. i shuffled my feet a little and they slowly slid into a small puddle of water. i let the water slip into the small space between the sole of my feet and the slippers. every part of my mind and body was going through a million different, mutually exclusive and unique, sensations. the soft trickle of water down my back was completely different from the the same thing happening on my arms. its amazing the way we are composed of an infinitesimal number of particles, each affording a completely different set of sensory experiences, and yet being whole and able to assimilate it into one.

i stayed outside for almost an hour, and didnt come in until i was thoroughly drenched. of course that doesnt really matter, for what really is more beautiful? the larva inside its cocoon, or the butterfly it is destined to become? there are some that might ask, what really is true beauty. ladies and gentlemen, it is, i believe, nothing but a moment of truth. it is that moment of truth that the larva strives to achieve in metamorphosing into a butterfly. and what was my moment of truth as i stood outside in the rain?

i "think" i know now.