It rained today, in the half-hearted way it often does in New Mexico. It was enough to get things wet, or at least damp, and for a short time I could smell the moisture in the air, the way it used to be in Alabama.
Whether half-heartened or not, rain is remarkable. Tons of water float in the air over our heads, totally innocent until the conditions are right and the bottom, literally, drops out.
Legend has it that geese will drown in a heavy downpour as they look up and the falling water fills their long necks. I’ve never seen a goose stupid enough to expire in such a fashion, but I’ve been caught in some geese-drowners. Our first year in New Mexico a massive downpour washed away entire yards and carved canyons ten feet deep in the desert. That’s the consequences of living on sand.
We’re admonished to build on bedrock, which is good structural and metaphorical advice. But there’s something good to say about living on shifting surfaces. It teaches you to be light on your feet, to be agile. You’re not encumbered with false beliefs of stability.
The world regularly shifts about us. Isn’t it better to be prepared?
Take time to reflect on those parts of our life we take for granted, including solid bedrock.