Rain, cold, Wood, and truth

Finally, it's raining in Southern California. Interesting, the diversity of my reactions to this weather.

I find the sound of the rain, and the gentleness of the environment very soothing. Wonderfully comforting.

The cold isn't penetrating like winter cold can sometimes be, but somehow it has penetrated... really penetrated. The house isn't in the least cold... but I sure am. And I find myself completely out of energy. It took way, way more determination than I had anticipated (or wanted to expend) just to do this amount of typing. I need to do a hymn arrangement for Easter, and for this particular hymn it's going to be really really really easy, I probably have a version already written that I can cannibalize/adapt, and I really enjoy doing this sort of thing.

And I all want to do is lie in bed. And even there, underneath a doubled-over comforter and a blanket, I'm still cold.

My plants love the rain. All the plants in the greater LA area love the rain. And there's a lot about the rain that I myself love, and always have. But somehow, this weather is just shutting me down. This is something new for me... I've always been sensitive to the "spirit of the weather," to the quality of energy of the world, but somehow that sensitivity has been amplified and I'm finding it almost... oppressive.

Oppressive because it, like the M.S., is forcing me to respect what my body needs and the energy of the season and the world, and to live in harmony with that world—whether my "lifestyle" finds it convenient or not.

In Connecticut, I used to joke about singing "I'm dreaming of a white... East-er!" It would often snow during Holy Week, it sometimes would even snow on Easter Sunday. I guess LA isn't southerly enough to already be in "true spring," even though I do feel the Wood element starting to show itself. Not as much as I'd like, I guess.

Still... I'm getting messages from all sorts of sources that I need to "back off," and give some more respect to the state that I'm in, rather than the state I imagine myself (or wish myself) to be in.

Respect for truth. A valuable gift of M.S.... one that the wise will welcome and receive with open hands. Because you're gonna respect the truth eventually, oh yes... best one should greet it with love, before it greets you with a hammer.

Which, my friends, let me tell you... it will.