Hello. My name is Wilberforce, and I’m a pluviophile.
*mutters of “Hello, Wilber” echo throughout the room*
Most people don’t understand what it means to be a pluviophile. Most people think of depressed people staring out a window on a cloudy, rainy day, like somebody in an overly emotional music video.
Or, if that’s not what people think of, it tends to be along the lines of list articles, such as “7 Signs You’re a Pluviophile” or a silly Buzzfeed entry, like “12 Signs You’re Most Definitely a Pluviophile.” The problem with those, is that they are simple. They are written to apply to the largest amount of people, so individuals (for example) who just enjoy the sound of rain can feel connected to something that doesn’t actually apply to them.
The dictionary definition of pluviophile is as follows:
noun, a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days
I want to direct your attention to the second part of this definition: “someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.” Again, it’s more than just appreciating a rainy day or the sound of rain.
Of course, from this point onward I’m speaking more in the personal, rather than dictionary, definition.
When I hear, am in, see, or otherwise experience a rainy day, the tension that I have on any given day melts away from my shoulders. My spirit feels automatically lighter and cleaner, as if the rain has literally washed away the darkness, anxiety, worry, and day-to-day wear upon my heart and mind.
Unlike the sun.
The sun has a way of pulling out all my bad tempers, my stubbornness (of which I have a fair amount), and general ill-will for my fellow residents on Earth. I find, as I get older, that it is only on certain days or certain times of the day where sunshine is desired, and then the quality of sunshine needs to be of a certain variety for me to be completely satisfied with its presence. Sure, my fair skin and allergies to sunscreen might have something to do with my aversion to the sun, but that’s nothing compared to my desire to be in a cloudy, rainy, stormy day.
The catharsis and over all joy that rain brings me is very real. Throw in some thunder and lighting and I’m practically in seventh heaven. (I am not exaggerating this: I love rain and storms so much that I have friends who periodically message me from across the country–sometimes across the world–when they think of me during a storm.) Yet, this joy is also found in a simple cloudy day, where the sun is hidden from the sky by a blanket of clouds that seems to be reaching down to hug me.
Rain is comfort, rain is love, rain brings life and love and happiness.
I need more rainy days in my life, more days when nature helps me to overcome my natural negativity about myself and the world. I need more rain to wipe clean the slate I’ve been tallying points on–points for me, points against me, points that are to be thrown into the void. I need more rain to remind me of blessings in my life; of the cool, sweet taste of new beginnings. What better time for rain than the springtime of a new year?
Hello, my name is Wilberforce, and I am a pluviophile. A pluviophile in search of rain.