When I was growing up, we got excited when the rainy season approached. We sang joyful, playful songs to beckon its arrival, passed down to us by our elders. It was the time when flowers began to blossom, and we would lean close to tree branches to suck their nectar. We played barefoot in the mud, feeling the softening earth beneath us.

Back then, I didn’t know that this connection to the changing season was something powerful. I didn’t know that watching for signs, listening to birds, feeling shifts in the wind, smelling wet soil or seeking out rainbows was part of an ancient way of knowing.

Looking ...

 

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