Sitting in the car on a hill, trapped between two flooded arroyos, waiting for the water to subside. Hours pass. Finally the clouds part and a beautiful pink light engulfs the wet desert. One river is crossed, with another yet to come.
Sitting on the couch, listening to the rain pour and thunder clap. Romantic and exciting until waves seep under the front door, into the closet, and across the room, flooding the house. Shoveling it off the porch with brooms, shovels, a garbage can, but it comes too fast.
Lying in bed on a Tuesday night, with five hours before the alarm will ring. The rain starts. Again. All I want is to be dry and asleep. But, afraid that aforementioned flood might repeat, I find myself outside, digging trenches in a newly landscaped yard. No one noticed that the house, and particularly the front door, was the low point of the lot. Until the rain started.
Wednesday night, I come home to find a hole the size of a grave in my front yard. My dad has come down after a long day of work to dig a low point for me. A place for the water to go. Other than the front porch. It will be lined with rocks. I learn a new term, French Drain. I make sandbags to put in front of my doors when I go to work. Just in case.
Horoscope after horoscope talk about all of the watery influences coming from the planets as we speak. Grand trines and other terms I don’t really understand. People I know tell me they’ve started crying in public for no reason this week.
So many prayers for rain in the drought stricken west, answered all at once. For most of June smoke filled the air as wild fires blazed. Now, the fires are out but mud slides have begun. Like in my yard, once the water comes it comes too fast and has nowhere to go.
In dreams water symbolizes change and emotion. Astrologers talk about intuition and balance. Getting your knowledge from somewhere deep inside, rather than outside or traditional sources. A strange humidity fills the air. My hair has a fullness normally reserved for places east of Oklahoma. The swamp cooler in my home, designed to work in arid climates, struggles to cool the nighttime air.
What does it all mean? I’m not sure. Time to deal with emotion as it arises and try to anchor oneself simultaneously. Anchor through grounding practices, slowing down, paying attention.
Practice fluidity and flexibility as things change or are unknown and there is no choice but to go with the flow. And learn how to swim!