A Complex of Rain

It’s raining.

A fine rain: there, yet almost not there. I slow my steps, feeling the tiny coolness gently seep into my skin, and the faint warmth that wells up from within my heart…

Twenty years ago, so it is said, when my parents were honeymooning in Guilin, they happened to catch several days of rain—and I, as a fertilized egg, came into this world precisely in that drizzling downpour. So my name has always had to carry the character “rain”; and my feelings, too, have often been wrapped around by rain.

Ten years ago, I would often lean against the wooden rail by the attic window, staring at the world outside—the world beyond the window was very small, small enough that I could only see the rooftops across the alley, and that was already enough. When it rained, I watched the raindrops striking the gray tiles, splashing up white spray; watched the rain run along the seams of the tiles and down the eaves, gathering into strands: like curtains, like waterfalls… The air outside the window, washed by the rain, became both hazier and fresher; the sound of vehicles, the footsteps of passersby… in the rain, all of it sounded much softer.

My hometown has long since been demolished; the attic, the gray tiles, the eaves have all turned to ash, and yet the scene of rain, the feelings of rain, have always remained deep in my heart.

People often associate rain with “femininity,” “melancholy,” “sensitivity,” and the like; I do not fully agree—with obvious reasons, I do not belong to any of the above, and yet I still take “rain” and “water” as symbols of my temperament.

Rain symbolizes “quietude”—it is not only a light rain, the kind that “silently moistens all things,” that can give people a sense of peace; heavy rain is no exception: for that “sound of rain” seems able to drown out the clamor and din of the mundane world; the rainwater from the sky seems to connect heaven and earth, giving one that marvelous feeling of the whole world fused into one. Rain symbolizes “clarity”—of course, rainwater is not clean, so to call rain “clear” is not because it is untouched by dust; on the contrary, rain envelops dust! This state differs somewhat from the lotus that rises unstained from the mud: it is not merely transcending the world and keeping oneself pure; rain, with its transparent breadth of mind, can better contain and dissolve worldly impurities, and even transform them into nourishment that moistens the earth…

Unconsciously, I had already gotten on my bike and was riding slowly along the shore of Weiming Lake… watching the raindrops fall onto the lake’s surface—the calm water was rippling with strange and beautiful patterns.

Rain is water.

Laozi said: “The highest good is like water” and “water benefits all things and does not contend.” “Detachment” is a characteristic of water—we often say, “people should strive upward,” but “water flows downward” is no less a precious quality, is it? Water flows downward not in order to retreat; its purpose is to carry nourishment to farther and wider lands! Of course, this is not to say that people should not strive upward or climb to great heights. The premise of water flowing downward is that its starting point is already high—and what is precious about water is that even when it is in a lofty place, it does not lose itself, and in its heart it always contains that vast expanse of heaven and earth!

Water has the gentle temperament of “following nature”; it has no fixed shape, yet can change into any shape in accordance with its environment. This precisely reveals water’s adaptability in responding to all kinds of changes, and its character of “following nature without contending.”

Of course, “not contending” does not mean having no desires or aspirations—in fact, beneath its yielding surface, water also harbors qualities of tenacity and persistence. Just look at the “Kan” hexagram that symbolizes water (六九六): it is precisely a form with yin outside and yang inside, soft on the exterior yet hard within. As the sayings go, “dripping water wears through stone” and “once it has rushed to the sea, it does not return”—thus it is clear that water, in regard to goals and ideals, always persists with unwavering determination, striving bit by bit, never giving up!

And finally, there is still “containment”: water bears all things and nourishes all things—every animal, plant, and mineral, every good and evil, every beauty and ugliness, only under the embrace of water are able to coexist in harmony…

The night is deep, and the rain has long since stopped. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air after the rain, I lift my head to bid farewell to the starry sky—though I can only see two stars, it is enough to move me… Time to go back inside and sleep.

2004年12月11日 

Latest comments

Yiwu 2007-04-01 01:49:32 [reply]

I hadn’t realized you had written such an article earlier. The front part is pretty good prose… then it starts arguing again… but overall it is…… hard to come by, a fine piece of prose.

Guba 2007-04-01 10:27:31 [reply]

Prose—I can’t write it anymore now.

This kind of article can’t be written by forcing it; unlike an argumentative essay, give me a topic and I can write it. Prose requires a mood. That mood, I can’t find again.

Yiwu 2007-04-01 22:47:03 [reply]

Mood is just like that.

As the saying goes, “This feeling may be recalled later as a cherished memory; only at the time was it already bewildering.”

Having once possessed it is enough.

Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.