Do not complain of the rain, but instead, listen. Listen to its melodious and nourishing teaching. Watch the sky cry the flowers awake and the quench the thirst of the most vicious of beasts.
When the rain falls into itself, a puddle forms. The puddle on the ground does not say to the falling rain “I was here first so you must do what I say.” Puddles know nothing of being first or best and they care not for false comforts of supremacy.
Look into the eyes of Oshun. She lives underneath the enigma of waves in her queendom of sirens, her soulmate Neptune, and the great whale song.
When the rain falls into itself, Oshun in her vast beauty does not say “Rain in the clouds should not fill our grandeur, it is only a cloud, it does nothing but float and cry. We hold the true essence of all nature under the sea! The cloud is different and we should not mix, for such a union is distasteful and will corrupt our purity.”
No, only the beasts of the earth, who have been given the gift of speech, reason, awareness and choice say such things.