There’s more to this world than what we see. More than what we know. I’m standing on our balcony, monsoon rains coming down in sheets. One minute hot sun and the next downpour, blanketing everything in sight, pelting the roof and the already lucious palms. The rain gives everything an ethereal quality. Takes me back to childhood days watching the thunder from the confront of our living room. Or, in college, playing in the hot rain. Walking to class and getting soaked by storms coming from nowhere. My graduation, barely receiving a diploma when everyone is huddled by the library, waiting for the sheets of rain to subside.

Yet with the rain also comes an undeniable sense of the present. Of being here, on this porch, in this jungle. Something entirely new and entirely amazing. Watching with the wonder of a child — this feels so real, so present — like sitting alone on a surfboard feeling the calm of the sea. Feeling like this is exactly where you should be, exactly what you should be doing. Just standing on a porch, overwhelmed by the sound & smell & ferocity of the rain.