There was heavy rain in Montreal in the past week. I got caught under an awning on Jean-Talon. I impatiently waited for the rain to stop. I waited with a growing feeling of misguided direction. I longed for something.
Why is it that a tiny grain of sand can bring tears to our eyes? Is it safer in the cage where we lock all our emotions? If so then why must they be heavy to bear? Are there still places in the world for their expressions? Am I expected to look pretty? When you’re repeatedly told that you’re pretty, you eventually feel restricted to the definition of that word. Can I scream and cry? Am I free? Why love? Why sadness? Why tears? Why anger? Why laughter? Why life? Why such mess?
…and why not?
Don’t you remember?
I longed for freedom, yet I had the choice and I chose obligation, my comfort zone and security.
Why are emotions difficult to handle? Why do we gloss over sadness, frustrations, disappointments and pretend they don’t exist? Why are we scared of merging and identifying with others? Why don’t we care as much as we do? Why don’t we cry as much as we want? Why are we whispering when we have something to say? Why are we starving ourselves when we love food? Why are we scared of unpredictability, volatility and the undefined?
Why? Why do we stay away from the rain?
Why am I waiting?
I want to swim into an ocean, to swim far, to feel the cold, to taste the salt, to swim back before my last breath and dry newly again. I want to let the child locked inside me come out freely and play again. I wanted to feel the ferocity of the rain on my soft face, soaking through my clothes, pounding on my skin…and so did I.
The rain...
Isn’t its wildness and irrefutability so beautiful? Just like the untamable storm deep inside our hearts.