I love the rain. I love the literal rain. It might be because of a couple of favourite school memories that happened in the rain and/or because of the rain that I love it, but I just know that I’ve always enjoyed thunderstorms, lightning, and heavy rain.
I remember one storm in university where the rain was falling so hard, an umbrella became pointless because of that little bit of wind that brought in the raindrops on ever-changing angles. It wasn’t cold outside, in fact, it was the perfect temperature to walk in the rain, umbrella down. And that’s exactly what I did. I folded up my compact umbrella, put my glasses in my pocket, and walked from campus to my apartment smiling and soaked. I would walk by people huddled tight to their umbrellas, and just look up into the storm, arms slightly open, welcoming the rainfall. There’s something about being washed by the clouds that’s so energizing if you run into it and let it happen as opposed to running from it and trying to cover up. (Of course, I was heading home for the day, so I knew I was changing clothes anyway. I probably wouldn’t have been as game if it was the start of the day and I had to sit in wet clothes for class.)
I love the metaphorical rain, too. Specifically the one that can refer too the storm of projects that can, all of a sudden, break onto one’s lap and schedule. That’s kind of been my early professional career, quite honestly, and I am always grateful for the streaks of lucky streaks I’ve been granted by the communities with whom I work. Yes, I know that my own work had a little to do with it, otherwise there’d be no reason to continue to hire me, but I’m always cautious not to just rely on these lucky storms. I see fellow peers struggle and hustle much more than myself, and I know their storm will break soon and it will all pay off, so when I think of the plethora of projects I’ve worked on since moving to Toronto, I always look back in gratitude humility.
My current storm, which has, so far, always come all at once, consists of a small remount of a show I did in late 2011, two dance-theatre composition contracts, a film (for which I thought my role would be sound/music-related but ended up being an audition of sorts for a main character), and an offer to work with someone I look up to and really admire and respect. (Not to mention my own stuff that I’ve been working on since the start of this year.) And just like that literal storm, I’m running into this one, arms down and open, head to the sky. Again, I’m always cognizant of this luck, so every time it strikes, regardless of frequency, I embrace it with gratitude, knowing that the drought is always a possibility just around the bend.
Love the storm. Be the storm, if you have to. It’s easier said than done, I know. But if those little drops start to fall on your head, and you need that rain, leave the umbrella at home. Run into the storm and keep that momentum going. (And if it means you’ll have to sit in class, soaking wet, then just bring a change of clothes with you. You’ll have the biggest smile in the room.)