The Alchemic Rain: Finding Stillness in the Storm

    Today, I am sitting by my window, letting the cool breeze wash over the room. Outside, the sky has turned that soft, heavy charcoal—the kind of grey that signals a shift in the atmosphere. The first drops have begun to fall, and I can hear the earth sighing as it drinks.

For many, the bright, golden sun is their grounding, the light that pulls them out of the shadows. But for me, the rain is my sanctuary. While the world retreats inside, I find myself opening the glass to meet the mist. I want to feel and breathe in that cool, vitalizing air that only exists when the sky opens up.

Living in the high, dry altitude of the desert, we are constantly parched. It isn't just our skin or our throats; it is our very spirit that begins to feel brittle. For those of us navigating the Dizzy Sea or the fire of DDD, the dry air can make our internal storm feel much more turbulent.

When a storm rolls through, it is a mechanical relief from the Mother. In the Fortress, opening that window isn't just about the view; it’s about inviting a more hospitable magic into the room. You are literally changing the climate of your recovery. The moisture in the air acts as a soothing balm for the jagged edges of a flare-up. It is a somatic reset that no bottle of water can provide.

Living with chronic pain and the weight of a system that refuses to see you creates a constant, low-level "noise" inside the body. It’s a hum of anxiety and a thrum of pain that feels like static. It is chaos.

But when the rain starts, that chaos begins to fade into the background.

There is something about the rhythm of the drops that creates a moment of absolute stillness. It’s as if the rain is doing the heavy lifting for me, taking the frantic energy I’ve been carrying and grounding it back into the soil. In the cool air, my nervous system finally finds a reason to exhale.

As I sit here, I can’t help but think of Stevie Nicks and that haunting lyric: “Thunder only happens when it's raining / Players only love you when they're playing... When the rain washes you clean, you'll know.”

In this journey—especially through recent battles with healthcare systems that play with patient safety and truth—I have felt exhausted and "othered." I have felt the lonely, frustrating weight of being gaslit by those meant to heal.

Stevie understood that sometimes you have to wait for the storm to do the work you cannot do for yourself. When the inner thunder of a flare-up or medical betrayal is roaring, sometimes the only answer is to stop fighting and let the external rain wash it all away. I don’t just know I’m clean in my mind; I feel the physical sensation of the chaos leaving my body. I am forever grateful for these moments and the ability to finally feel... washed clean.

Even in the middle of the downpour, I hear them: the birds. Usually, we think of them as fair-weather friends, but today they are gracing me with their songs right through the grey.

And then, there are the crows.

Their rhythmic, raspy cawing cutting through the sound of the rain isn't just noise to me—it is a sacred chant. In the midst of the cleansing, the crows remind me that there is a song for every season, even the dark and rainy ones. To me, their presence is a visceral sign that the Gods and Goddesses are near. It’s as if Freya or Hekate is whispering through the wings, reminding me that the storm isn't a punishment; it’s a conversation. They are here in the damp air, in the scent of wet earth, and in the persistent call of the black-winged messengers.

If the crows can find their voice while the world is grey, surely I can find a melody in my own "rainy" seasons. Reconnecting with the non-human world reminds us that we are part of a much larger, ancient cycle. The crow doesn't need a diagnostic plan to be powerful in the rain, and neither do you.

 If you are feeling overwhelmed by the tilting deck of your own life today, I invite you to try this simple Alchemic ritual:

• Open a Window: Even if it’s just a crack. Let the temperature of the outside world touch your skin.

• Listen for the Layers: Try to distinguish the sound of the rain hitting the leaves from the sound of it hitting the pavement.

• Find the Birdsong: Look for the one small, beautiful thing that is still thriving despite the "bad" weather.

• Let it Wash: Imagine each drop taking a tiny piece of your internal chaos and carrying it down into the ground to be transformed into something new.

The storm will pass, but the cleansing it leaves behind is a gift. Let yourself be washed clean.

With love from the shadows,

Ashley

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