The rain tonight feels unbelievable. Cold. Large pellets. I stood under the tree house and listened, dings deafening.

When I get like this there are epiphanies in water droplets. Lessons on the aluminum roof. Meaning in everything, or I could just be losing my mind.

Yesterday, a symbol in the tiny circle of gold sitting on the bathroom sink at work. It caught my eye – that’s mine! I checked my left wrist where a worn red string falls apart. The pendant fell off – Thursday, in my rush. I never noticed. Of all days, that day it fell off.

I scooped it up, took it back. A third of the size of a dime, with a lotus clearly etched. I wrapped this onto my arm in early November, and was supposed to set an intention that would later come true upon the string dissipating.

I scanned my memory (which is often poor) to recall the intention. Nothing specific came to mind. But the mantra from that weekend – from all of last year, actually – that one is hard to forget. Salutations toward that which I am capable of becoming. A mantra for transformation, inviting death of old ways and beliefs which no longer serve us, an invitation for something new.

Something about the rain reminded me of it. The earth receives what she needs. Thunder shakes the ground. The rainwater pools into puddles. Sky yawns open. It is cold and largely uninviting – but awe-inspiring. Always.