Sunday, September 13, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
drenched
there is a beautiful storm rumbling outside right now. the night is black with flickers of lightning. the breeze is pushing a white curtain just above my computer in a gentle sway like a mother calming her child. i can hear doors shutting and girls chattering outside their rooms as they sneak through the halls in their flip flops during study hall. the rain is gathering in the gutters, on the flat land outside, and on tile floors in our dormitory. the puddles remind me of abundance, of refreshment and being utterly drenched.
monsoon truly demands our full attention in mussoorie. while i hear this year has much less rainfall than seasons past, we have still seen patches of gray days with piles of rain pooling into ponds and rushing down hillsides. on one such grey day, i was strolling into town with friends for dinner at the tavern. after two fat drops fell on my nose and shoulder, the skies opened up. i felt like an ant under a faucet. we scurried inside to buy a much needed "woodstock umbrella", which comes in all colors and has a curved diameter as wide as the streets of the bazaar! after this, we all fell into line and sloshed down the slopes spinning our colorful waterproof tops. i decided not to look down as much as possible in order to avoid the questions...what happened to all the monkey and donkey dung? why is the water that is washing my chacos the color of butterscotch pudding?
as i was distracting myself from these questions and the constant foot-bath, two young indian women hopped under my umbrella, and clung onto my elbows. suddenly, they stopped squealing in hindi and started talking in brief english, asking where i was from and what i was doing in mussoorie. i soon learned that apart from needing an umbrella to make it dry to their next destination in the bazaar, they wanted to talk to all the tourists from the states. our conversation ended with more squealing in hindi and batting their eyes at the blondest male in our group who was behind me. we made it only partially drenched to our destination and enjoyed the shelter from the rain, good food and good company.
more than wetness, brown water, and giggling interactions, monsoon has brought refreshment to the land, green ferns that cover the entire hillside and glimpses of divine beauty in creation. i sat on the top of a hill the other day and beheld the view: layers of greens and blues and purples in shades that outnumbered my imagination. i gazed at the green ferns that sprout on the path, on the trunks and limbs of trees, and curl around the wild orchids. in the distance, the clouds towered above the foothills and created the facade of never-ending mountains ascending above. right in front of my face, the clouds drifted like thin layers of gauze and hung in the sky like white cotton candy that had just been spun in the valley.
i drifted there as well, the weight of my body and mind as light as the clouds. i lingered there, the sights of my soul as full as my view. i drank deeply like the land in monsoon that is refreshed by the rains. God's presence pours out in all creation and "my cup overflows."
monsoon truly demands our full attention in mussoorie. while i hear this year has much less rainfall than seasons past, we have still seen patches of gray days with piles of rain pooling into ponds and rushing down hillsides. on one such grey day, i was strolling into town with friends for dinner at the tavern. after two fat drops fell on my nose and shoulder, the skies opened up. i felt like an ant under a faucet. we scurried inside to buy a much needed "woodstock umbrella", which comes in all colors and has a curved diameter as wide as the streets of the bazaar! after this, we all fell into line and sloshed down the slopes spinning our colorful waterproof tops. i decided not to look down as much as possible in order to avoid the questions...what happened to all the monkey and donkey dung? why is the water that is washing my chacos the color of butterscotch pudding?
as i was distracting myself from these questions and the constant foot-bath, two young indian women hopped under my umbrella, and clung onto my elbows. suddenly, they stopped squealing in hindi and started talking in brief english, asking where i was from and what i was doing in mussoorie. i soon learned that apart from needing an umbrella to make it dry to their next destination in the bazaar, they wanted to talk to all the tourists from the states. our conversation ended with more squealing in hindi and batting their eyes at the blondest male in our group who was behind me. we made it only partially drenched to our destination and enjoyed the shelter from the rain, good food and good company.
more than wetness, brown water, and giggling interactions, monsoon has brought refreshment to the land, green ferns that cover the entire hillside and glimpses of divine beauty in creation. i sat on the top of a hill the other day and beheld the view: layers of greens and blues and purples in shades that outnumbered my imagination. i gazed at the green ferns that sprout on the path, on the trunks and limbs of trees, and curl around the wild orchids. in the distance, the clouds towered above the foothills and created the facade of never-ending mountains ascending above. right in front of my face, the clouds drifted like thin layers of gauze and hung in the sky like white cotton candy that had just been spun in the valley.
i drifted there as well, the weight of my body and mind as light as the clouds. i lingered there, the sights of my soul as full as my view. i drank deeply like the land in monsoon that is refreshed by the rains. God's presence pours out in all creation and "my cup overflows."
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