Listening to the Day: When the Rain Comes First
This morning, the day didn’t begin with roosters or birds. It began with rain.
There’s something about the rainy season in West Africa that makes me feel both grounded and alive. I’m most productive when it rains. Maybe because the rhythm of raindrops on the roof keeps me company as I write. Or maybe it’s because the rain itself insists that we slow down and listen.
I love the way it transforms the world around me. The fresh air, the way everything suddenly smells clean and new. The lush green that follows, bright and unapologetic. Even the puddles feel like little blessings, reflecting the sky.
Rain is a reminder that life refreshes itself. That we, too, can pause, reset, and come back greener, softer, stronger.
So this morning, I’m grateful for the rain. Not just because it cools the air for a moment, but because it cools the spirit, too. And as I sit here, windows open, notebook nearby, I’m reminded of this; sometimes the best days begin when the rain comes first.
This reflection is part of my Listening to the Day series, short morning meditations on sound, stillness, and living fully.
