I would venture to say that most people, in describing the perfect conditions to enjoy an uninterrupted sleep, would admit that there is nothing like a nice gentle rain to accompany their unconscious state. And though this begs the question of as to how one would know, or even care if it’s raining when after all they are asleep, I would suspect it has something to do with that intermediary period between daylight and dreams, when consciousness plays hide and seek with us. The rain perhaps appeals to some buried features of our identity hidden from us, in conflict with that part of us which rushes us to hide from the rain under umbrellas and roofs to keep from getting wet.

And yet I can’t help but wonder why getting wet is such an undesirable event. The very same thing some of us embrace when asleep, we run from when awake. Of course this says nothing to its aesthetic value. Sure, we love to watch storms from our front porches as they sweep through towns and cities and the country-side, but let those drops make their way onto our clothing, soaking through the fabric that holds them together (like our lives-held by fewer threads then we’d admit), and our whole attitude towards these ethereal tears is turned on its head.

Furthermore, that graceful splendor, that commanding presence which has its polar opposites in splashes and torrents fascinates us with its multi-faceted personality. Like nature, rain can calm with misty drops and then crush with aggregated deluges. It can inspire and spur creativity, but rarely is it an occasion for engagement. Grant Wood saw something in a farmer and his wife in painting American Gothic, but was never tempted to join the family. Like him, we keep our distance from the canvas upon which storms are cast. We’ll let a few stray drops crown our crest, but what those clouds would like to do to us we are most emphatically opposed to.

Yet the most striking function of rain is its most obvious- it’s a cleansing agent. All grit and grime is dissolved and extinguished after a good downpour. This brings to mind the words of Travis Bickle in the movie Taxi Driver, “Someday a real rain will come and wash this scum off these streets.” This suggests that rain not only rinses but that it reveals. Water is clear and tends to make all things it touches like it. This is why I feel we are uncomfortable in rain. It shows who we really are. Like a see-through shirt that displays what we wish to conceal for obvious reasons, all things are laid bare under the rush of rain. The layers of dirt we hide behind are washed away and so go our excuses with it- along with what we feel is our self-esteem and dignity. But what burdens the body with a chill and an unpleasant drenching also cleanses the soul like a pagan libation or a holy communion.

So let’s rush into the rain with song and dance. For we know that what dampens, enlightens, and what splashes… washes.