G-d is in the rain

If He is, then how come I don't feel as wet as I once did? I can sit outside and watch the water soak through my clothes, feel the spray of rain on my face as I walk, splash through puddles but I can't feel it. What does that mean? Is he so far away now that I am unable to see it again?

If He is in the rain, then what about the oceans? or the ponds or lakes or water underground in caves? Could I just go down to the shore or dig deeper than 6 feet and find Him again? So many questions and somewhere there is a whisper, as it always is. Never a booming voice that I would want, or a mysterious floating hand writing on some wall. No, just a small whisper that sounds like the wind, maybe it is the wind, but it's the faintest thing that keeps me from walking into traffic.

I've got more problems than hairs on my head. I, like most everyone else, is some sort of walking catastrophe loosely bound with old thread and twine, keeping it together to save face, to look okay, to appear fine to passersby, but when alone in this quiet place with haunted wooden floors and tears that seem to have found their way out of my eyes again, I have no mask to wear, no person to impress. Just talking on this like I am someone important, that my words matter to anyone. But I am just lonely, wondering if and when that something special will happen. A friend once told me that G-d answers a prayer by saying "yes, wait, or I have something better". Maybe so. Hope so. Sometimes all you need is to do the hard work of trusting, of putting your faith into something that doesn't make scientific sense, but even that doesn't make much sense either. I am so impatient with my questions. Maybe it's our generation or maybe It's because I just hate waiting. I want answers and I want them now, but maybe it's best that I wait.

And it's hard not to dig. Not for water, but for something, to try and find this or that that would validate how I am, how I feel, what is going on. And the problem with digging is that you are going to get dirty and you might not find the soil you want to find. But I don't know what else to do with all these shovels I have around, gathering dust. So many things seem in vain, chasing the wind, wanting, trying, failing, surviving, breathing, hurting, living, moving, keeping on, don't show your cards, do this, do that, play the game, find someone to date, be happy with yourself, watched pots never boil (yes they do). Am I even ready for anything? Is anyone? Is there a point to get to, or is the point the process? Will we ever be ready? I don't know. But I do know that we are all in the same boats, maybe at different places in the sea, holding on for dear life, and that G-d is in the rain and in the salt spray and in the water that is overtaking our boat. Maybe the best thing to do is drown. Just let go, feel your lungs fill with water. Gurgle, choke, close your eyes, sink to the bottom of the sea. Maybe that's being alive. By being dead, and vice versa.

So I'll let the cold sea swallow me with its indifferent indigo jaws. And I want you to come with me. Lose ourselves to find ourselves, everything is simple, everything is backward. Take a chance. This world feels like it's all crazy, it's all false, it's all a dream, but it's alright. As long as you have someone with you, people in the trenches fighting, you are not alone. And I am not either.

So maybe G-d is in the rain. Or maybe He is in the dirt. Or maybe He is in the trees, hiding behind the leaves and branches. Wherever He is, He is everywhere. I don't know why I feel so alone when that is the truth. Guess it just feels so far away, like 250 miles, or 17,000 miles. But all I have to do is look up, or look down, or look around me.

G-d is everywhere.