Almost...

I just came from a failure of a lease signing. A failure in the sense that it ended in no signing, no exchange of money, no turning over of keys - just a torn up lease and the landlord's screams bouncing down the hall behind me as I fled his temper tantrum. I was weary of his personality from the start - agitated, evasive, nervous - but I was willing to look beyond it for the apartment. A gorgeous parlor level of a brownstone with 25' ceilings, original detail and very, very good vibes. When I say I've dreamed of the place, I truly have. It's appeared in my meditation and creative visualization exercises (another blog entry all together). So beautiful that I'm contemplating whether I should have accepted his unfavorable terms and volatile temper. I shouldn't have and I am glad I didn't, but now I have to start all over again.

Todays rain doesn't help matters. My fingers are not yet unthawed from the hour I spent stalking up and down 5th Avenue, phone clenched in hand, relaying what had just happened in exasperated, short breaths to family and friends. After another hour spent at the farmers market buying ingredients for an impulsive, domesticated evening of cooking (probably to offset the rootless frenzy), I arrived at my temporary post on Rivington and Clinton, content to meld my feelings of defeat with the grey, insistent drizzle. But I've just received an email from a friend, reminding me of the true attributes of rain. "Rain is necessary for all life to exist," she says, "so we might as well give thanks!" She's right. We need it to thrive and grow; to round out the cycle; to stop, reflect, realign and rest up for the next period of sunshine.

So I sit here now with the window wide open, welcoming the rain and letting it wash away whatever just happened today. Flush it out, make room for the new. And I'm giving thanks - for the life lesson, for the cozy apartment I'm in right now, for the apartment that's on the way, for the understanding that all will work out exactly as it should, for the wine I just uncorked.