Digging Through Pain for Pleasure

It’s been storming this week off and on.

Mostly it’s been warm rain. (Thank Science, since the cold hurts me so damn much!)

When I lived in Haines, I learned a saying that I thought would be a great life mantra.

There’s no such thing as bad weather, just not enough gear.

I lived that even before I heard it.

I used to LOVE to run in the rain. I loved the sensation of icy droplets of condensation running down my legs as I splashed through puddles and mud, sometimes stopping to jump with both legs into one simply to…well…jump whole heartedly into a puddle.

I love the smell of the earth crying out to the sky to infuse the earth with life blood. I love the smell of the mud once the earth’s been satiated.

I love turning my face towards the heavens and feeling the love of the Universe course through me in every single fat little

Aurita_Maldonado waterfall


It’s quite magical.
Especially when the temperature is warm, as it had been last week.I simply love rain.

On Tuesday I picked up two organic raspberry bushes and an organic thornless blackberry bush at Root’s Market. I was (and still am) thoroughly excited about the berries they will bear.

When we came home from the market, I grabbed the pitchfork and went straight out to the section of the yard we’d chosen to reserve for berries and wild edibles while John was still putting away our organic bounty.

I sunk the sharp prongs into the soft receptive earth, stood up on the pitchfork and gave it a little hop.

The prongs sunk deeper.

That simple action felt like a raging victory against rat lungworm disease.

I mused, “F*ck you, slug!!!”

I stepped down and wiggled the wooden handle to and fro to loosen the earth. The clovers, dandelions, chickweed, and grass that were solidly rooted there began to mound and shift easily with each tug I gave the tool.

I looked around for a second before moving to the left one step to continue loosening the earth around the border of what was to be our new raspberry plot.

The bright, clear sky seemed to end right above our house.

That’s where the storm clouds began.


I decided in that moment that I would work through the rain, unless the lightning was too close for comfort.

Is it the easiest way to garden?


The most energy conserving way to garden?


The most comfortable way for a girl who is recovering from rat lungworm and is severely sensitive to cold temperatures?


Is it an AMAZING way to spend the afternoon?


I smiled to myself and sunk the pitchfork in again. I worked halfway down the bed until I felt the first fat droplet of rain splatter on my forehead.

Splat, splat, splat, splat.

They began falling faster.

I turned my face toward the sky.

Each drop was a tiny razor blade on the nape of my neck,  slicing its way down my back. I was wearing a t-shirt, so they had direct access to filet my arms as well.

I let out a little cry of surprise.

A sensation that used to be pleasant was suddenly absolutely excruciating.

I wanted to run for cover.

Run inside and watch the rain from behind the safety of glass.

I stayed still.

A big part of me wanted to hide under an awning and rub my arms furiously, hug myself, and sob; lament the sensations I’ve lossed, and send negative energy towards the ones I’ve gained.

I stayed still and turned my face toward the sky.

The daggers remained, slicing icey new intricate patterns into my back and chest. My t-shirt clung to my shoulders.

The fat droplets massaged my face.

As the water saturated my t-shirt (I had a thermal layer on under my jeans, so my legs [where the pain is still concentrated] weren’t even close to wet yet), I began digging again.

The heat my body created with movement warmed the daggers into soft, harmless drops of warm water cascading in a path of certain healing.  The open gashes from before were soothed.

I worked until I felt the familiar bliss of sweating in a soothing  torrential downpour.

I felt the rain as rain should feel.

As rain used to feel.

As rain felt before the parasite.

I nearly cried. I laughed and sobbed a quick sob all at once. If someone would have seen it…it would have been either quite moving or completely hilarious.

Probably both.

The cool droplets fed my soul as it provided sweet, sweet nectar to the earth.  It swept away my fear and my pain for the moment, allowing me to be bare in the elements.

Allowing me to enter Hurricane Mode.72 hours contestant - Hurricane Rita

I giggled.





My clothes clung. My hair was drenched. Steam was rising from my efforts.

My lips were parted in satisfaction, pleasure, and excitement.

It felt lovely.

It felt familiar.

It felt like life.

Tomorrow’s not guaranteed.

Remember, to enjoy the little sensations that give you pleasure.




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4 Responses to Digging Through Pain for Pleasure

  1. Me May 13, 2013 at 12:12 PM #

    Very touching, everything created on this earth was with a purpose, everything we need to heal comes from His creation. It’s touching to see how you trust nature to heal, how you’re not afraid to cry, and smile and giggle and go through the painful process of healing. It’s so easy to give up for some, but then there’s no reward.

    You’ll be rewarded.

    Pain is simply a signal that something is wrong, it tells us to work through something. Enduring pain only makes us stronger.

    Thanks for sharing

    • Hurricane Rita May 14, 2013 at 9:02 PM #

      If the pain is making me stronger, maybe I’ll be a Category 5 Hurricane by the time I’m finished with this! 😀 Nature heals. Manufactured crap is just that, crap. Natural, whole foods…the sweet smell of earth…the sound of birds flirting…so healing. I’ve been so lucky to have those experiences!

  2. Susan May 14, 2013 at 7:40 PM #

    PLEASE write a book. No one can write like you do. Your words are so heartfelt and moving it’s impossible to read without tears clouding my eyes. Knowing you and being able to put a face and body to your words makes me feel that I’ve been given an amazing gift of your life. Dig on dear girl

    • Hurricane Rita May 28, 2013 at 11:46 PM #

      Digging! 😀 I’m flattered. Thank you. The book is definitely in the works. More and more I’m outlining, note taking, correcting, collecting. There will be a book! It’s truly a pleasure to see my writing enjoyed. I can only relate it to how an artist must feel when someone notices and appreciates a particular part of a painting or a work.

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