Creative Bloom | Volume 1: Stories from Artists

Introducing Creative Bloom - our new Hopegrown series where art, nature, and soulful storytelling come together. From magical fiction to poetic reflections, each post is a gentle invitation to let your creativity bloom!

Flicker of Flame, Droplet of Rain, and Shadow of the Spider…

Rain.

It washes, it cleanses, and it purifies, providing an epiphany like tonic for the mind, body and soul. Following the rain comes its rich, pungent scent of wet earth, moss and grit, its aromatic elixir so powerful that one can nearly attest to the feeling of Mother Gia herself. Like the release of old magic, hidden underneath the lost roots of ancient trees, another ethereal spirit like Mother Gia and as old as time itself. The modern world seemingly has grown to be blind to such magic. However, with the rain it seems the world wakes from its slumber, and the mortal eyes once clouded become focused again, and just in time to witness and experience how alive the earth truly is. In this moment, feeling the coolness and calmness of rain, the human spirit can freely surrender, and in this surrender, fall under the earthy spell of esoteric wonder. For we too are children of this earth, our existence just as wonderous and magical. With the rain descending from the heavens and clouds above, our spirits are offered a break of enlightenment if we so choose too, and just when we breath so does the earth inhale the wet mossy air…

I sit in my study, watching the rain fall heavily from the sky, listening to the thunder rumble like the ancient Titans, and gaze cautiously at the lightening, how it fractures in hues of gold and silver across purple and grey skies, all this energy rupturing through the earth, a pure vortex of chaos, and all I do is sit and watch in wonder. Feeling awe inspired, my fingers twitch excitedly, ready to capture this moment from pen to paper. I write about the ferocity of the storm as I listen to rain pebbling at the window and roof, knowing very well how much must be flooding out the sidewalks and streets.

As I write, my focus is suddenly taken away from the servitude of lightning and thunder, and I take pause to just watch the rain. Witnessing how slowly the droplets glide across the glass in the window. So simple and seemingly inauspicious in contrast to the raging gale outside. I watch how the small droplets pebble at the glass and ripple across the puddles of water. Ironically, these tiny droplets fall in tune to the same disturbance in creates in the water, but each are individualistic how they fall from the sky, fragmented all by time. Autonomous, yet collective. One droplet of rain doesn’t cause a storm, but when merged with its raging cousins, thunder and lightning, the consequences can be devastating. It’s like I can finally see the raw beauty of how such a simple metaphor of nature can transcend into the gravity of something larger and powerful to a larger scale, and it only signifies how aligned and interconnected we all are. All this realized because I stopped for a moment to watch the rain.

Perhaps this understanding came to me because of the eutrophic relationship I have with rain.

Rain…

I love to get caught in it, walk bare foot in it, feeling its naked kiss upon my bare flesh as the humid thickness of the earth envelopes me in its mirth, while the rain continues to descend from the sky, awakening the human senses.  

I stop writing, rest the pen silently on the pad of paper, and head quietly to the back door. Not worrying about the knitted blanket that has fallen from my shoulders and onto the floor, I slip off my socks, ignoring the rain boots by the hall, I open door.

Immediately, I am greeted by a gust of wet air as it splatters across my face and nearly stumbling backwards. Outside looks blurry with the amount of rain, and through the door, looks hazy, like curtain leading to a portal of another realm. Not flattering I take a deep breath, and as expected, the richness of the earth permeates my senses. My body suddenly relaxes as I step forward, walking bare foot out into the yard and into the magical beyond.

Drenched by the rain, my hair sticks to my face like a coil of snakes, and my cloths slick to the grooves of my body like a second skin. My mind feels like static with all the elements invading my senses, and my heart maybe picks up a beat of two as thunder rolls above, as I think,

“What am I doing?”

However, when my bare feet hit the wet grass, toes digging into the muddy clenches of the soil, I can feel my body, mind and soul suddenly ease, as I let joy and freedom wash over me.

My spirit feels guided by the movement of the earth as I wander barefoot out into the yard. The rain seems to fall even harder, as I begin skipping from puddle to puddle, water and mud sloshing up my body. I kick a large puddle and watch with amusement how the fractures of water spray outwards, breaking into smaller droplets against the heavy rain. Stomping my feet, I make a bigger muddy puddle, with water rising to my ankles as the clouds race overheard and the trees begin to sway, either in protest from the storm or cheering my silly wonder on. Rain starts to pleat harder against my face, as I let out a yell right in time with the roar of thunder. I laugh out into the storm, like extension of my spirit finally connected the earth spirited rich filled void surrounding me, and the air suddenly feels magnetized by the energy. I can feel the hair on my arms stand on end, as gooseflesh pickles across my skin, giving me time to reflect on how all interconnected everything is. With my bones chilling in the cold as my feet sinking in the sodden grass, I can feel the euphoria.

Thunderclaps angrily against the sky breaking my revere and bringing the resonating stillness I then realize how small I truly am in such a vast realm where I am truly tiny in the grander scale of this earth, both in time and physicality.

It’s humbling.

Then as quickly as it came, the magic veil suddenly lifts as my body begins to shiver in the cold, and I start to turn human again. Realizing how foolish I had been to be out in such a storm, my grown adult brain begins to chastise myself as I start to make it back inside, the eutrophic cleanse now releasing my childlike soul.

As I carry my cold, wet, silly arse back inside, a wicked strike of lighting invades the night sky, just as the thunder shakes. Startled, I let out a terrified screech and dash for the door. However, not to all gracefully, as my bare feet slip in the mud and I nearly fall into a puddle, but wondrously I am able to make it back inside. I make it inside just in time too. As soon as my body reaches the threshold the heavy plumate of rain begins to fall even harder, like stones,

“Plunk, plunk,plunk.”.

Feeling relieved I avoided the downpour, I take a deep breath as I am welcomed by the warmth of my home, to only once again admire the rain from inside. Dressed in fresh dry clothes, warm knee-high socks, and my thick knitted blankets safely snugged back around my shoulders, brewing a cup of vanilla chia tea before heading back to my library study to resume my writing.

I light a cinnamon spiced candle in the window, the glow of the flame washing the library in shadows. Perfect ambience for the storm I can truly affirm, and I can feel my fingers twitch again with the knowing feeling of needing to write. With the warmth of the candles, and the knitted blanket around my shoulders, I take my seat in comfort of my armrest. The smell of warm vanilla chai, cinnamon spice and paperback books filling the room is just the right remedy to ease the chill of such a storm. Resting my cup of tea gentling on the table next to the armrest, I pick up my pen and paper and began writing where I had left off. Writing about the storm’s ferocity.

Not a moment has passed when I am, once again, interrupted.  However, this time it is not the droplets rain, but rather the flickering of the candle. I can’t help but notice how the flame of the spiced scented candle casts peculiar shadows in the window as heavy rain continues to splatter against the glass. Ominous shadows are seen crawling the walls of the study, and suddenly I get the feeling that I am not alone.

Mesmerized by the flicker of the flame, I reflect on the storm. Like a droplet of rain, the flame is not so dangerous on its own, but can amount to great catastrophe, leading to destruction and devastation. Seeing the power of such strong forces compelled in small quantities surrounding my own comfort I take in another steady breath, once again relishing in the safety of my home and at the same time feeling grateful for such pleasantries.

It has me thinking about how to connect the rain and fire into what I am writing when suddenly a tiny, strange shadow appears in the windowsill. The candle flame flickers again, and I see that it is just a little jumping spider, who luckily found shelter inside before being washed away. It is not conscience that I am seeing the juxtaposition of fire and rain alongside the brave and gallant spider adventuring up the window to paths of the unknown in search of what I do not know. Like Mother Gia and Titans, spiders too hold ancient memory, and in many cultures are seen as a spiritual sign from the divine.

I can’t help but smile at finding my new unexpected guest, knowing that I was not alone after all indeed, wondering what wisdom this spider holds. My pen hovers over the paper as I watch the little spider. The little creature is so small that I nearly lose its shadow moving in the dark edges around the window, and I can’t help but wonder if I am that small in the view of the storm.

Small, like the droplet of rain and flicker of the flame, yet profound. Profound in the sense how closely intertwined we all are among the earth.

I think back to moments ago, of me dancing in the rain as I watch the spider cast its web and swings over to the other side of the window, doing its own aerobic dance as it sways now from side to side.

The spider is kind of cute, and I like the fact that I have a new friend to now join me in the study as we both take comfort from the rain.

My body gives a shudder, not from the cold, or from the spider, but just at the over presence of magic that I suddenly feel.

I watch for a few moments move, the rain, flicker of the candle and the slowly fading shadow of the spider. My body refreshed, mind at ease and my spirit connected. I can’t help but smile while looking out my study window at the magic in the world’s smallest wonders, and how they can bring forth such great moments of clarity. Some may regard it as foolish to put such meaning to things seemingly childish. For me, however, I choose to believe in magic, and all the beautiful synchronicities the world provides, it only radiates joy and peace within me.  

I smile again as my pen reaches the paper as I write,

“Flicker of Flame, a Droplet of Rain, and Shadow of the Spider.”