Just as the rain lulled me to sleep, it woke me with sudden sounds of distant thunder. I opened my eyes to a faint darkness, and allowed myself to sink within its loud silence. I kept my body a senseless corpus, and made my eyes that moment’s purveyor of life and thought. What thoughts I had about mundane living! Materialistic ventures of a world I didn’t want to belong to any more than I wanted to escape from. Money—I needed some. I have some travels to pursue, I have some bills to satisfy, and I need money. I thought of going to the casino as a quick-fix until my next pay check. It couldn’t hurt to go eventually; after all, it paid my undergrad text books once upon a time. But even the drive there meant money, $4.09 per gallon type of money—No ma’m!
Then something funny happened as my mind stretched these trivial thoughts through and through to no significant avail. I saw the furniture in my living room begin to vanish (all but the couch that I still lay senseless in)—the decorative coffee table within my view, the cheap multicolored striped rug under it, the television, the chairs, my mom’s life-sized porcelain baby Jesus along with its wooden cradle, even my mom’s informative voice on the phone was dulled into nothingness. Only my self, my body, the couch, and the cascading rain existed in time.
Before I saw her, there came another sinking feeling. Not as if I was falling, but as if I was slowly being lowered into a crevice. It was her eyes that appeared in my mental first. They were dark and glaring; she was peering out, seeing the same rain as I, in deep contemplation as I, but at peace. It was a revelation to her, the rain. It filled her with intrigue; it was like a god to her, a mystical promise that she could not decipher, but that her heart understood. She had no troubles, this dark-eyed girl from the beginnings of time, when green was the only landscape, blue the only seascape, and brown the only ground to walk on—true purity.
Sheltered from the rain, in her indigenous abode, she felt the earth—damp, energetic, meaningful. She shared a connection to it all, this wet earth, this rain, this wind, this thundering sound, “Yes! I have a place,” she thought in a language and a mind that existed before material gain. And with that thought, I was back. I was back to furniture, comfort, noise, money—worries. I was back to pathetically write about what I can only pretend to have been a flashback from a past life. Back to posting on a blog what was an unreal, yet intriguing moment that lasted seconds too short. To remind myself, over and over and over again, that my life is trivial, and that even with the divine phenomenon of rain indulging all my senses, and comatose-ing my every cell, my mundane mind immediately thought about needing money. Meanwhile, in the history of my spiritual heart there lived a dark-eyed girl who belonged to the spirit of the earth, who had a place, who had a connection, and who thought of peace whenever she looked out at the rain.