Influence a la naturale by Connie Wolf

It was good to be back with my writing group again, I knew I missed it; I missed the process, I missed the people but I never suspected what a therapeutic release it would be to write again, to keep the pen moving, and to dare, once again to be transparent. I left class Tuesday determined to write every day. On Wednesday I began. I made a three page list of the influences in my life, I was sure I was off and running. The best laid plans….. OK, so it is now Saturday and I am looking at my three page list, I found it on my bedroom floor tossed carelessly by the side of my chair, untouched since Wednesday. I’m going out of town tomorrow and will miss this week’s class. Before I pack, before I make another telephone call or answer another email, I will choose something from my list of influences, something (as Amy would say) that jumps off the page at me. Three pages of people, events, places and things and what do I chose? I chose the weather. Does that tell you how boring the other items on my list must be if climate is my influence of choice? Actually, it is my second choice, my first was going to be a discussion of hormones; they have certainly been an influence on my life. They influenced me when they raged in my youth, when they burned in middle age, and even now, dry as dust, they influence me still, if only in memory. Some how, they are connected, the forces of nature within and the forces without. The forces of my current life are like the Santa Ana winds that blow dust and grit and set my teeth on edge. Holed up in the house, hiding from the heat I feel, angry. Every nerve on edge, the sky is clear and bright in contrast to the grit and heat that beats against my windows. This weather brings out the worse in me. I love rain, it releases something within me, the rain starts and it is as if I have been holding my breath, waiting for permission to exhale, breathe easy; I can live in just this moment. There are all kinds of rains, I’ll describe just three: #1 The Beginning Rain. I have watched the clouds come throughout the day. They came, first in layers of flat grayness, but now the final layer has form in various shades of darkness, now they are dimensional clouds with thick billows of substance. The day was long with the promise of rain. I found myself drawn again and again to the window to see if it had finally started, not yet, I feel the tension rise in me like a taunt elastic band pulled and straining, it must be released or it will surely break. With agitated anxiety I wait. Now I see, on the light concrete of the sidewalk, one large drop and then another. I hurry to my porch to watch and welcome the long awaited storm at its beginning. My hand reaches out, palm up, to feel the fall of the first large quarter-sized drops. It has begun; I feel relieved, I feel a release in my spirit in tune with the release from the sky. #2 Coastal Summer Rain On the coast of Oregon there are two kinds of rain. The storms that fall in torrents lashed with wind that brings down power lines and topples trees in its fury and then there are the mushy rains of late spring and summer. This is more a ground fog gone amuck, a heavy mist so fine it has no form or sound. The only sound is the drip from the trees and the eaves of the houses; a slow mournful drip that encourages boredom and discontent. This rain looks and feels like my depression. This rain will never lull me to sleep. In this rain I can’t cuddle up with steaming mug and watch from my window. It fills the air rather than falls. It fills the air with oppression. #3 The Sudden Storm, The Storm After The Storm It rained all day yesterday and today the sky is brilliant. In Southern California you forget what a really blue sky looks like; we have come to accept the dull gray of pollution that fills our calendar of days. But today, after yesterday’s storm, the people come out and they eagerly remark to anyone who will hear, “Look! Look at the sky how blue it is”. “Look you can see the mountains”. Once again we had forgotten they were there. There are still clouds, huge white fluffy clouds in constant motion across the sky. In the afternoon a dark cloud immerges, darker than any in yesterday’s storm. It moves quickly and seems to be full of its own wind. It does not fill the sky; the incredible blue can still be seen around the edges. With a single loud clap of thunder the rain begins, not slowly but all at once. People scurry on the sidewalks, scurry for cover. Cars slow on the street, in the houses everyone stops and runs to their windows. It is a majestic show of nature, it will not be ignored. It lasts only minutes, a half hour at the most and the cloud glides off to another neighborhood, another town. Mother Nature takes her show on the road.