After the Rain

September has started well. Today is calm, sunny and bright, a welcome change from recent days. Reports speak of the wettest August on record, a miserable experience for children who have only a few precious weeks of holiday between school years. It’s disappointing also for those families whose Bank Holiday plans were comprehensively washed out, at least here in Northern Ireland.

There are as many ways of observing the seasons as there are people alive but I’m struck by my own reaction to the weather. I’ve always plenty to do; my days are always busy come rain or shine but I recognise the zest that accompanies a sunny day.  Mundane tasks are discharged with ease where yesterday they engendered drudgery. Today brings a sense of possibility, of promise. All will be well. Somehow it’s easier to ‘live in the moment’ when the world is sunny and bright.

However, to expect only sunshine is unrealistic. The joy of a sunny morning is proportional to the dreariness of the previous wet afternoon. The satisfaction of a meal is related to the hunger that precedes it. The romance of a new relationship is intoxicating after years of loneliness. In all manner of ways we use the bad times to calibrate the good. It’s an inversion of the saying ‘You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone’. But because these sunny disposition experiences can only account for a small percentage of our lives, it is vital that we learn to ‘live in the moment’ whatever the circumstances so that we can live life to the full. It’s perhaps also important to look beyond the immediate, to the underlying cause and to take responsibility for doing what we can to create a better situation.

Often such work requires introspection – If these dreadful summer rains are due to climate change, how might I have contributed? If these dreadful chest pains are due to angina, am I aggravating the situation through my dietary choices? If a spouse has left, what was my role in the disintegration of the relationship?  Life’s greatest challenges and most painful moments can be pivotal learning opportunities for us if we let them. Significant change requires significant emotional adjustment and the ‘emotional time constant’ is highly variable among individuals. Those with a wholly pragmatic disposition may appear cold or superficial to others but both approaches are arguably necessary firstly to get the transition underway and secondly to embed the acceptance that sustains it. ‘Living in the moment’ through significant change is likely to subject individuals to a rollercoaster of emotions as described by Kubler Ross’s change curve.

Here, in the shadow of Slieve Donard in the Mournes, townsfolk smile as they tell you  “If you can see  the mountains the rain is on its way, and if you can’t see the mountains it’s already raining”. In general our waterbutts are at least half full here and we’ve learned to enjoy a sunny day when it comes along. For myself, I’m learning to live in the moment come rain or shine. I don’t want to live in the past, nor to worry unduly about the future but will choose a way of life which I believe creates the best chances for my grandchildren to enjoy the beauty of this world as much as I have. I’ll also choose a way of life that creates the best chances for me to be here for them.

Today in Newcastle is sunny and warm. Inevitably change, and further learning,  is on the way but for now I’m singing - “I can see clearly now the rain has gone.”