Strolling in a Storm: Walking Ecology

I walk to work during the storms instead of bike. It's a bit like preparing to go skiing with full pants and jacket since the wind over the last few weeks has whipped the rain diagonal and even pelted me briefly with tiny hailstones. Umbrellas are useless. Sounds tough but it isn't. A meditation in the rain is a great remedy for what a storm otherwise whips up-- that pent up cabin-fever feeling when you feel forced inside by the weather. The cabin fever is especially poignant in an urban setting where indoor space is often shared by so many people. I'm still surprised how during storms kids are encouraged to stay indoors as if puddles weren't for playing in. Staying indoors, storm ecology is what is lost. For instance, a five minute walk through the neighborhood in a downpour makes one aware of storm drains and wonder where the water goes and what it's collected along the way. Then there are the small ponds that form in the flatlands reminding us of our proximity to the water and the flooding that happens in spots close or even below sea level. A little hail triggers the joy of wondering what could make such a strange object suddenly drop from the sky. Just thinking about my storm strolls conjures words I love to say, poems I love to remember.

106. In a Station of the Metro Ezra Pound

THE apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.