3 June 2010
It rained today.
Not the kind of gentle drizzle that lasts all day, nor the sudden skies-opened-up downpour that you know will last no more than five or ten minutes...nor still the off-and-on sun showers that serve only to confuse and tease you. No, this was the kind of storm that starts quietly and builds...the kind that you can watch as it grows, if you are fortunate, into a full-on thunderstorm that lasts for an hour or two.
I watched it build initially from my office window around 4:30. I watched the clouds roll in and turn a day that had been bright and sunny from the moment I woke up into a gloomy twilight. I say "gloomy" there-- it evokes an accurate image, to be sure, but when I left the office and headed into the open air, I did not feel an atmosphere of gloom at all.
The initial stage of my commute home is a 20-minute walk across the Francis Scott Key Bridge, which crosses the Potomac River and the C&O Canal, and then takes me through part of Georgetown's semi-famous M Street shopping district. Though part of me had hoped that the rain would hold off until I reached my bus stop, the drizzle was just beginning as I walked out the door of my building. I briefly contemplated altering my route so I would be inside on some mode of public transportation, but quickly decided against it and proceeded on my way.
I relate easily to this quote from Henry David Thoreau's essay "Walking":
"I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least-- and it is commonly more than that-- sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements. You may safely say, A penny for your thoughts, or a thousand pounds. When sometimes I am reminded that the mechanics and shopkeepers stay in their shops not only all the forenoon, but all the afternoon too, sitting with crossed legs, so many of them-- as if the legs were meant to sit upon, and not to stand or walk upon-- I think that they deserve some credit for not having all committed suicide long ago."
You see, my job keeps me inside pretty much all day staring at a computer screen. It's not a bad gig overall, but I find it hard to be so sedentary-- which is rather strange actually, since I don't lead an incredibly active lifestyle to begin with. I find it hard to be trapped, so I have grown to relish my morning and evening commutes, particularly the walking component. And I have walked it-- and will walk it-- in virtually all types of weather short of a hurricane.
I don't find walking in the rain to be such a bad thing. Personally my main concerns are for the books, notebooks, and technology that I inevitably carry in my backpack; I could care less about what I'm wearing, although after a certain amount of drenching a dry pair of pants and socks become a highly appealing prospect. I have been caught in enough downpours to always carry an umbrella in my bag, even if it's sunny out, so I generally feel free to take it out and saunter along in bad weather, largely unconcerned with the precipitation around me.
I fell into a state of near-total bliss walking along this afternoon in the rain. As the world rushed by around me-- pedestrians running for cover, cars plowing through puddles and getting mired in traffic-- I strolled along, unhurried, looking down at the water below and absorbing the water falling from above.
Once I crossed into Georgetown-- at 5:00pm, normally a beehive of pedestrian activity, mainly tourists shopping-- I was somewhat startled to find that the sidewalks were as clear as though M Street had shut down (though the normal traffic snarl continued). My fellow walkers-- perhaps more ill prepared than I, or perhaps simply more sane-- had run for the nearest store, restaurant, or overhang to wait out the weather. I can't say that I blame them; at this point the rain was falling more heavily and thunder had started to rumble in the distance as the storm really moved in.
It's amazing how getting caught in a downpour can make some people friendlier. People see you in a similar boat and they are more inclined to smile and make conversation, if only briefly. It's a short respite from the usual bubbles that DC residents find themselves in for most of their lives.
The storm lasted about an hour. As I sit here drafting this post in a Starbucks near my home, sporadically nursing a hot chocolate, the rain is starting to slow. Knowing the weather here, in an hour or so it'll be sunny again, hopefully turning into a pleasant and mild evening. I have every reason to expect that it will be so.
The nature of DC in the summer is such that thunderstorms are virtually guaranteed at least every couple of days. They are necessary to cool the air and break the humidity, if only temporarily. Nature needs a respite; so too do we humans. Many of us dread getting caught in a downpour, but what I have grown to realize is that, looked at in the proper way, the rain can be a break, a necessary and not unpleasant interruption that reminds us to really be aware of our surroundings. I didn't have my iPod on while I was walking in the rain-- in part because I didn't want it to get wet but also because it meant I was more aware of my surroundings. Perhaps this is an overly poetic way to look at a drenching, but the opportunity to really be present in life and in the world around you is one that I admit I rarely take advantage of, so I was glad for this experience.
