I love the rain. Maybe I’m enough of an adult now to know that rain now equals green grass and cooler temperatures later. Or maybe I like the way the thunder reminds me of being frightened as a child and that I’m not scared now (score!). I also enjoy the fact that, no matter what you do, the tiny droplets of rain combined with the sudden breezes will somehow, someway cause you to be slightly soggy all over, so you might as well accept and try to enjoy it.
But we all carry umbrellas anyway, don’t we? I have a strongly held belief that when I do carry an umbrella, it will not rain that day. My faith in this dogma was shaken to its very core yesterday when I exited the building, saw that it was raining, looked down at the rolled-up umbrella in my hand, back at the rain, back at the umbrella, and so on until the truth finally sunk in. What I do does not really affect what happens to me (whoa, big thought for a travel-sized umbrella).
I am not violently anti-umbrella, but I do secretly fear being poked in the eye by a stray spoke. Really, wouldn’t it be simpler and more natural to just be in the rain? Communing with nature? Communing with others in nature? Huh? Yeah, we should just get back to basics, you know?