There is a kind of rainstorm that, when it hits, is intense and violent; but you intuitively feel that it will be shortlived, it will pass over quickly, to be replaced by a blue rainwashed sky and the singing of happy birds.
There is another kind of rain, very different, much milder and gentler, but when it comes you feel, without quite knowing how, that it is going to last a good while; the kind that can hang in there for days, leaden sky and fine drizzle or light rain, the kind they call a 'slow soaker'.
When a farmer's crops badly need rain, I understand the farmer would much prefer the visit of a slow soaker over a shortlived violent downpour, even were the downpour to bring more water than the long light rain. For the downpour might wash away topsoil, and it doesn't penetrate into the earth very deeply; and after it has passed, before long the soil is too dry again. Whereas with a slow soaker, all the contrary is true, and the fields are thoroughly soaked and replenished.
Sadness is like rain; both rain and sadness come in these two kinds, as well as in others.
In the past year or so, since the present chapter of my life began, I have had some violent downpours of emotion. The following morning I would feel that I had been cleansed, humbled, pacified by the sadness. But it wasn't long, only two or three days, before my mind and heart seemed to become relatively hard and barren again.
For days I have been sad, I noticed it Friday and this is Tuesday evening. Not terribly sad, no storm of emotion, but gently and slowly sad and pensive. The sky of my soul is still a light even grey, and I don't know if it will be gone tomorrow or hang in a good while longer.
It is not raining outside, physically, we have had little rain in the last few weeks. But inside of me I am having a slow soaker.
May it penetrate deeply and replenish the soil.