Anna Colibri, Rain Maker

Theme song: Sun Goddess

The sun is delicious, these days, but it's a guilty pleasure.

California is drenched in nothing but drought. I'm hearing stories of people in the Central Valley who are fetching water from local gas stations and bathing with a cup and washcloth. What I'm saying is, their wells have run dry.

I'm picturing cracked earth and women in colorful clothing walking miles across dusty earth, iPhones in one hand while the other steadies the earthen pots perched upon their heads, texting their friends about what a pain in the a** is it to haul water like this.

It's kind of apocalyptic. It's a bit Third World. Kind of sassy, kind of have/have notty.

Thanks to the sacrifice of Hetch Hetchy, I am comfortably seated in my back yard, drinking a coke and lemon (talk about guilty pleasures), and writing you my weekly love letter. The sun, and whether it shines, is not exactly within my purview (meaning, if you will, range of operation, authority, control, concern, etc., with an emphasis on etc. because, really, so much of what we do can be summed up with those three little letters and a period).

There are, I know, people who make rain, and not exactly for a living. Instead, they live to make rain. It's their soul function, if you will.

So I ask you: What if I arose, gracefully, let's say, and spread my arms just wide enough, palms up, slowly circling, and began to beckon the rain?

Picture my small body, rising, gently spinning, maybe sort of slo mo. My hair is loose, my face turned up towards God as I commence to change the weather.

Wind begins to rise, the sky darkens, lightening strikes, thunder claps, and fat raindrops fall.

Cool, huh?

Your Turn

What's your super power?