Saturday, February 20, 2010
Children of The Rain
Childhood. Where is that place - that place of freedom, of imagination? Where lies that open field of fearlessness where the uninhibited state of innocence invigorates the soul’s astute awareness of the limitlessness of life?
The rain was falling like grand pearly pellets from the sky, breaking their form only when they collided with the ground. The team sat huddled under the protection of the dugout, gazing upon the flooded turf wondering whether practice would be or would not be.
They watched the rainfall from behind an invisible vale of separation – a vale constructed from some unconscious fear of rain. Crowded together, the masses waited for someone to tell them what to do.
Waiting. Watching. The torrential rain continued to taunt the team. “I will not give you respite. I will not stop. I will continue to pour upon your playing field, pounding it with my pearly, pellets of power.”
The team heard the rain’s message. They started to grow restless.
And then, in a courageous stand against nature, a few brave soul’s relinquished their fears, and broke through the vale, stepping cautiously, at first, into the submission of the powerful rainfall.
And what they found when they stepped to the other side of the vale was an empowered sense of freedom – the freedom to run, splash, kick, smile, and laugh.
They became the Children of The Rain. They found childhood, again. And one by one, inspired by the grace of those who had already decided, each individual embarked on the journey back to childhood.
“I felt like a kid again.” Barb Weinberg reminisced with glee. “I haven’t felt that young in a long time. I used to love playing in the rain when I was kid. I felt so free. Uninhibited. Just happy.”
So the team played soccer. They bounced on the island-like bubbles of turf sending ripples thru the soaked green field, that had become an ocean.
They pounced from puddle to puddle as white played blue in powerball. They had a synchronized slide session. They played wiffle ball.
And when the rain relented and the sun shined again, they sat. They sat still in exhaustion. The exhaustion of an exhilarating return to childhood.
Posted by Rachel Dawson