The Silence of Falling Water

Why do we feel the need to name the storm before we have learned to listen to it? We spend our lives building walls against the elements, convinced that shelter is the same thing as safety. Yet, there is a profound, ancient truth hidden in the damp earth and the grey, unhurried sky. When the world turns muted and the air grows heavy with the weight of water, the frantic pace of our own existence begins to falter. We are reminded that we are not the masters of the landscape, but merely guests passing through its moods. There is a strange comfort in this insignificance, a quiet surrender that happens when we stop trying to control the weather of our own lives. Perhaps the most honest version of ourselves is the one that emerges only when we are willing to stand in the rain, unshielded and still, watching the river carry away the things we thought we needed to hold onto. What remains when the noise of the world is washed away?

Ronnie Glover has captured this quiet surrender in his work titled Rainy Day at the River. It invites us to step into that vast, wet stillness and simply breathe. Does the rhythm of the water speak to you as it does to me?