We just hosted our annual PRE-MONSOONAL party, and based on the turnout I’d say it was a success. This is the second time we’ve done this. The first time was in response, more or less, to losing my job at the gallery, and while things are fine for us this year, we know many other people in crisis. Divorces, drug relapses, and hospitalizations seem to surround us on all sides, and we are reminded of the fragility of life and the temporary nature of our closest relationships.
The PRE-MONSOONAL has come to represent a feeling, one of tension and release, much like the atmospheric tension that precedes a monsoon storm. It’s the kind of feeling where you just can’t take any more and you're ready to scream. It’s where you can’t give any more of yourself, even if you wanted to. It’s the moment of truth where all deception fails, where the lies we tell ourselves no longer work, and we’re confronted with naked reality.
Then the sky opens up, and water drowns the land.
The cicadas are buzzing in the trees, and someone saw a paloverde beetle. Deep within the ground, insects and animals are beginning to stir, anticipating the rainy season. This is my favorite time of year. It is a time of absolution. Soon there will be rain. Soon we will find relief from the hundred-degree heat.
Soon life will begin anew.
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