Soggy Self

Dear Sor Juana,

The rain fell, creating puddles, turning cracks on the pavement into tiny streams, creating a circulatory system connecting me to the heavens as the umbrella didn’t quite keep all the drops off my head. The day before on the same path a gum tree bowed and the tips of its leaves blessed my crown and the menthol eucalyptus filled the air. This day I was getting wet. My bags were wet. My feet were wet. My coat was wet.

Sor Juana have you ever arrived at your destination wet? My soggy self dripping onto the floor and each drip making a withdrawal from my dignity bank. I disrobed the outer layer, dried off and got myself ready to take my place in the room warmed only by the goodwill of others and not the heating.

The swamp of life from which all sogginess may come in a down pour or a sun shower – but it will come and however ready you are with umbrella, coat or waterproof boots – there are days when getting wet is an opportunity to be apprenticed to your disappearance (as discussed by David Whyte).

As I have written before these moments, provide the elements with an opportunity move us through cosmic amniotic fluid and be baptised with grace. To learn to lean on, and into the dishevelment being in the rain brings, is an invitation to bring your whole soggy self to the room.

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