WHY I LOVE THE L.A. RAIN

I WOKE UP TO THE SWEETEST SOUND this morning. It was raining in L.A. And it was like a sweet serenade at my window.

At first I didn’t realize the day’s gift. I thought I was hearing the usual fake rain. But the earbuds blaring my favorite sleep app had already fallen out––buried in the crevices of my wrinkled pillowcase. It couldn’t be them. They’re used to soothe my nightly insomnia. They tirelessly wail with the mixed sonics of a creek, a gentle rain, and the waves of a peaceful ocean. But, some time in the wee hours, my digital nature symphony got relieved of duty. It got re-mixed and replaced. With a live performance, at that.

Rain makes my workdays more productive. And those closest to me know I can be giddy as a 4th grade schoolgirl about that fact. They know I absolutely love when it rains in this city. And if I weren’t so busy working, I’d be dancing in it. And, yes, I know I’m one of a minority.

Transplants move here, and tolerate all of the B.S. and drama that comes along with this city for one reason and one reason alone –– the nearly perfect, sun-shiny weather, 300 days, out of 365. And I have no problems being the proud, weirdo, who’s the exception in this crowd.

WHAT RAIN DOES TO L.A.

I ask residents to notice what rain does in L.A. It calms down the general citywide crazy. In me, in others––in the entire vibe of this town. (Santa Monica New Agers, please replace the word “vibe” with “vibration” ––voila!––see how I just made you love the rain too?)

This falling water upon us completely washes away the frenetic, competitive, energy of this town (#Hollywood), causing people to be more contemplative––and dare I say it—(cough)—“less shallow” and more sane for a day or three? Okay… two and a half? (Outsiders: you’re so not allowed to laugh at that joke. We understand the pressures of our city’s culture and you don’t.)

When the water falls here, I see something cathartic happen. I see people chill. I see people fall deeper within themselves. I see people use small talk about the rain to engage in the human-to-human interaction we otherwise seem to politely and impolitely avoid here. Rain makes the city smaller; neighbors say more to each other. Rain makes the city smell better, feel better, behave better. It just changes things––and people––temporarily. It’s like a brief, but healing reprieve from the “all year summer” the Los Angelean life can be. And it helps.

Most of my L.A. friends claim to abhor the rain, but a few of them love it as much as I do. Hater or Lover, I see the good it does for all––the emotional equilibrium it eventually restores in them. Rain occurs like more of a matter of psychological health in this town––cleansing more than just the smog laden air, but cleansing something deeper within us––bringing a re-centering, a needed balancing. This is why I think rain in L.A. is a beautiful thing; it remixes us. It gets us out of the rut of just one, static, meteorological experience and whatever it is psychologically and emotionally doing to us. Rain feels like L.A.’s refresh button.

As a writer, a creative, (a lamenting empath), this falling water is the balance I crave. Rain focuses my mind. I can mentally ‘see’ better in the rainy season. I dream better. I sleep better. My personal crazy ratchets down a notch or two. I feel connected and ‘able’ again –– much less disturbed by the rushing elements of what usually assaults me from the mental morass of this city. Don’t worry––only other empaths were meant to get that last part. And, trust me, they do.

A DROP TOO LATE

These medicinal raindrops falling from the heavens may have come a little too late to help those battling the hellish brush fires that overtook so many homes in this city––just weeks ago. And although I’m glad to see this rain come, and linger a while, I pray it doesn’t trigger another oft repeated Cali tragedy––widespread mudslides and the collapsing homes that wash away with them.

In the meantime, I’ll be giving the earbuds and sleep app a rest for a few days. A cracked window will be all the sweet serenade I need.

“It never rains in Southern California!”, croons a famous song. But when it does, it does.

“Good night,” insomnia.

Tonight, I win.

— A