Rain Drips & Impermanence

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Drip. Drip. Drip.

Heavy Brooklyn rain patters against my window. The pattering sounded a little too close. Too real.

They were too close. Beads of water gently scaling down the wall. Exposed brick a deeper red than normal.

My first instinct was curiosity. Where is this coming from? Then fear. Then anger. Will there be mold? Is the rain soaking through the brick? What the hell?!

Then my fears got wider, deeper: This is what I get for staying in NYC! This apartment was too good to be true. These drips are a larger reflection of where I'm at in my life.

A drip is never a drip!

Then I had to rein it in. 

One of the intentions I set for the year was to "Embrace Impermanence". These two words are actually framed in my bedroom, hanging on one of my bone-dry walls. 

As I was dabbing the moist, exposed-brick wall, I strained my neck to the right, seeing those two works sitting patiently behind me with a smirk.

Embrace impermanence. Now I smirked. My tightened, angsty muscles loosened a little. Then I texted my super: "Send help. Ceiling leaking, walls wet!"

Life sometimes drips. However, the rain always subsides and dries up. Then there's another mist, a drought, or it pours.

It took me a good hour or two to notice the impermanence in front of me. Once I did, it wasn't so scary. The wall wasn't so wet.

Sometimes a drip is just a drip.