i am in a women’s creativity group that meets once a month. during the march get-together, one of the members supplied two writing prompts. she asked us to choose one of them, then freewrite for seven minutes. today i’d like to share my spontaneous words from that activity, no edits.
prompt >> The rain fell harder now.
my freewrite >>
I never really liked that kind of weather. Gloomy, depressing, darker thoughts emerging. (And for practical reasons, why get ready when you were just going to end up looking like a wet dog anyway?) Some embraced the rain, even welcomed it, as a refreshing change of pace. A way to clear stagnant or stuffy temperatures and emotions. But then one day, armed with an umbrella, I realized the rain’s worth. Its ability to shift clear blue skies to moody gray clouds; its knack for mimicking the similar transformation we go through, we must go through, when negotiating and understanding our own deep-held feelings. It was refreshing. It was cleansing, it felt safe. No longer alone with the overwhelming emotional rollercoaster, shared with nature’s own version. And sometimes, when my mood was especially dark and grief-stricken, the rain fell even harder. And it was okay.
