₊⊹ Tuesday Letter of Light ₊⊹ Make it Rain

Dear Imperfectly Perfect Human,

Woah. If you’re in the UK right now…how much rain?

I don’t remember it ever raining quite this much. I’ve been waking up intermittently to the sound of my windows weeping and the night-time-nerve-inducing howling of the wind. It’s giving soggy socks and serious melancholy.

It feels relentless. I don’t remember there ever being quite so much of it before. And rain is such a perfect example of our resistance to the way things are. Us Brits talk about the weather before we’ve even asked how each other are. We complain and brace ourselves against it, as if we’re all in this grey-sky support group together.

But what can we take from the imperfection?

Usually, I resist the cold, wet and dark months - wishing them away and counting them down. But this year, January feels like it’s moving a little quicker than snail’s pace. I think it’s because I’ve made a good attempt at not fighting it quite so much.

Last year had me Googling light therapy lamps and aching for sun on my skin (+ not having to peel damp denim off it).

This idea of accepting what is, acceptance of the imperfect moments, brings me to my next topic. Rain.

We've already talked about the weather you aBut a different kind of rain.

RAIN, in this case, is a mindfulness practice. Not the kind that asks you to sit cross-legged in silence while your brain screams. This one’s a bit gentler.

It goes like this:

• Recognise what’s here.

• Allow it to be as it is

• Investigate it with curiosity.

• Nurture it with compassion.

  
  

The acronym was developed by meditation teacher Michele McDonald and later expanded by psychologist Tara Brach. If you’re prone to spiral showers, shame storms or emotional turbulence (I was proud of my weather puns too), which, as we all are as imperfectly perfect humans, it’s worth a try.

I used it yesterday, here goes.

I was meant to be going to a class. But I also really, really didn’t want to leave the house.

It was bucketing it down with that ‘is it ever going to stop?’ rain that makes you question everything...your commitments, choices, lack of a practical raincoat, location on Earth. I sat on the edge of my bed for a good half hour, convincing myself to stay in. But instead, I tried this:

• Recognise: Chest tight. Head foggy. Couldn’t be arsed.

• Allow: Okay, this is where I’m at. It’s fine. I am allowed to feel like this.

• Investigate: I don’t like driving in this weather. Anxiety heightened by the fact that I very recently reversed into my neighbour’s car (Hello, imperfect moment).

• Nurture: Of course, you’re nervous, love. Why don’t we just try it? We can go super slow. And if it’s too much, you’re allowed to turn around.

  
  

So I got in the car, drove through the dark and the downpour and parked in the rain. And I made it home without reversing into anything. I made sure to let myself know I was proud of myself.

Sometimes, self-kindness is talking to yourself as you would a lovely friend, helping yourself see the light when the mind is resisting. Sometimes, it’s chatting to yourself with compassion: “Let’s give it a go. You’re doing great.”

Sometimes it’s not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to da....nah I’m just kidding, that’s too far and too cheesy.

While Imperfectly Human is very much about self-acceptance over self-development, the book explores how tools like this can help us become more aware of and much kinder to ourselves and kinder towards our thoughts, our feelings… and the weather, the traffic, relationships, certain times of the year (or month!) and the everyday imperfections of being alive.

RAIN helps us look with curiosity rather than criticism and with compassion rather than control.

With soggy sleeves and enthusiastic encouragement,

Chelsea x