what's being done... a little sharing from the book...
I find a kind of comfort in nighttime falling rain; in the drops dancing madly against a receiving window pane; in the way it descends relentlessly at times and ever-so-gently at others. I like it best, though, when the rain cascades torrentially from afternoon into evening and from evening into the darkest of midnights, with no attention to the drowning world and collecting puddles. It just falls and pours and masks all that breathes beneath it. And just when you think it’s gone for good, the rain comes in again and takes hold.
Sleep comes easier below a roof being sprinkled with rain. A constant, yet ever-changing, rhythm that lulls and cradles, setting the tone for the night of sleep ahead. A quiet, effortless sleep, uninterrupted and settling, that takes places only underneath a rainfall. So much so that you long for that nocturnal downpour time after time again, because within it and the shadows it creates against your bedroom wall, there and always you find your deepest, darkest sleep.
There’s a certain, recognizable silence within the deafening tumbling down of rain. Thoughts and the innermost contemplations take second place to it almost involuntarily. As drowned out as the newly-soaked ground now. It’s something else to listen to, rather than the noise inside that otherwise takes over. That is, if you listen intently enough. It all goes hand in hand - the silence, the easy sleeping. One only exists with the other, and both only exist when it rains. And perhaps that’s where that kind of nighttime falling rain comfort comes from - the stillness inside the storm.