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The beauty of Being a Pluviophile
She hid her persona behind a veil of darkness because that was who she was.
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Pluviophiles are the people who love rain. The word pluviophile comes from the Latin word “pluvial,” which means rain, and “phile,” which denotes a thing or a person. Therefore, a pluviophile is a lover of rain or someone that finds joy and peace of mind during the rainy days.

 

Many of us are to a certain extent a pluviophile. The rain represents washing out of the old and renewing life to start again, almost like a second chance, given by Nature. But how can you be sure you’re actually in that category?

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Are you generally a person who finds the “smell” of rainfall, that musky, dusty, but fresh after smell when it rains after a particular dry spell? Do you feel like you want to save that essence? Bottle it up and keep smelling it when you want? Nostalgia flaring up each time you inhale that musk. It's moist and cold and comforting. Walking out in the streets after a downpour is one of my favourite things to do. Luckily there are certain perfumes that try to produce this scent, though it’s not as good as the original (Clearly) at-least its an attempt.

 

“It has been a long day, and as she fell into bed, she drifted off into a shallow sleep, nightmares pranced around inside her dream dimensions, and though she was sleeping, she was restless, so when she woke up in the morning, she was still exhausted, but something was different about this morning.

 

She felt goosebumps on her arms as a familiar chill filled the air around her bed. She sat upright to make sure her deduction is correct. The soft but steady patter on the roof was all the confirmation she needed. She let out a gentle “whoosh” and slowly laid back down on her pillow, closed her eyes and gave into the moment.

 

She lived her life for moments such as these. Working frustrated her, being at a desk from 9 to 5 felt like someone was strangling her. Her eyes keep darting towards the clock in the far end of the vast area covered with desks full of people on headsets chattering with customers. She was a call centre agent, selling novelty items to strangers in other countries. The job sustained her financially but killed her spiritually. The buzz of conversation overwhelmed her and she tried to block it out by concentrating on the ticking of the clock but failed. No one took much notice of her even though she seemed clammy and about to be sick. For she wasn’t like the others here.

 

She had a dark, emo look, she wore black at all times, had short nails painted in black. Black eyeliner and vampire red lips. Her hair was cut into the shape of a mohawk and coloured green. Tattoos covered her hands, fingers, wrists and everywhere visible to the eye which didn’t leave much to the imagination about what she must be hiding underneath. She was the quiet type, never indulging in groups, or laughing at jokes. She preferred her own company, so she kept to herself. She was a good employee and did her job well, but she was a loner. She ate alone, sat alone, and no one knew where she lived. No one was able to understand who she really was and where she came from, because in our world if you don’t conform to the masses, you become an outcast. So they shun her, laughed at her, scorned her. She heard the silent jokes shared between colleagues when she walked by. She felt the stares when she turned away. But she still looked fierce and unfazed.”

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Sometimes I sit for hours watching the rain outside my window, the splatter blurring the glass on my window, the droplets sliding down the smooth pane. Even if the windows were open it’s a joy to simply see the water droplets on the road or grass, forming muddy puddles, making everything that was browning, green again. the steady rhythmic downfall of streaks of water rushing down to hit something. It's so beautiful.

 

I would in fact also run outside and just sit while it pours down on me. The cold water on my body engulfs me into another dimension. I have always encouraged my children also to go out into the garden and play in the rain. It is one of a kind experience. No amount of baths or rivers or waterfalls can give you the kind of natural high that sitting or playing in the rain does. It is one of the most exhilarating and energizing moments, because if you really think about it, that droplet of water is reaching earth for the first time, and when it falls on you, it hits you untouched by anything else on this earth. How beautiful is it to have something so untainted, touch your skin? I could be shivering, teeth chattering, but I’d still be outside sitting in the rain. These are moments you can’t buy with money. These are natures beautiful gifts to us. How sad will it be if we go through life never experiencing something so perfect and inspiring? Imagine how many novels must have been written after a bath in the rain? How many lovers must have professed their love to each other soaking through thundershowers? The classic, Sound of Music, Features a scene where the oldest daughter courts her beaux in the rain, and it's so innocent and beautiful.

A lot of bottled up emotions get released when you’re dancing in the rain.

 

 

One of the main things I love about the rain is how it comforts me even in my darkest days, or how it lets me pour out my emotions during a downpour. I could be sad, happy, bored, angry, whatever emotion id be playing at that moment, would quickly defuse the moment I hear the rumble of thunder, the strike of lightning, and the sound of the rain fast approaching from a distance. The whole atmosphere at home changes when the rain pours down. As a family we gather on the porch to look outside, steaming cups of cocoa in our hands. We watch the trees sway in the wind, feel the droplets of rain send tiny pinpricks into our hands and legs when a sudden gust blows a few our way. Here, at that moment, we forget any disputes or chores. This is the moment we bond as a family, taking in the chilly air, sitting close to each other, loving each other as the rain comforts us as a whole. It is one of the most cherished moments I, as a mother, look forward to. For this is the moment there’s no electrical equipment being used, no one's head is bent down looking at a phone, or playing a game, there’s no social media involvement. It's just us, there at that moment, against the rest of the world. And that tiny moment is perfect.

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I’m a girl who doesn’t like sunny days so much. I prefer the dark gloomy skies, to a bright sunny day, any day. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but it certainly is mine. Something about thick, dark, heavy clouds blocking out light and giving the day a dark hue, makes me feel so peaceful, like as though there’s a battle raging but it's being taken care of by the heavens, and all we need to do is spectate and applaud at its beauty. Who wins is unimportant, but the battle is something of awe to be experienced. I’m always excited when I see dark clouds approaching and terribly disappointed once it passes over.

 

“But that doesn’t mean that she feels nothing. She felt it all deeply. For though her outward appearance was dark and menacing, she had the most colourful mind. She loved poetry and fiction. She would spend hours on Netflix watching romantic movies and TV series. Autumn was her favourite season. She loved walking through the park, looking at the colours of the leaves, strewn across the ground. Her heart ached for human contact even though she shied away from it. She wanted someone to connect with her soul, to understand her as she was and not expect her to change into something normal. She needed love and comfort, for she was all alone in the world. Her hands yearned to be held, she longed for a pair of fingers to be intertwined with hers as she sat on the park bench.

 

Though her clothes were dark, her apartment was full of colour. Her couch had many colourful throw pillows neatly laid out, with a multicoloured poncho folded on the side ready for her to cosy up with when she wanted to relax with a movie. Fairy lights lit up her tiny bed, and she never slept without them on, so that if she ever woke up in the night, she wouldn’t feel lonely because they looked like little fairies flying over her.

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She was a coffee lover, and she never sat down to read without a cuppa. She loved to laugh but wasn’t afraid to cry. Her emotions were always at the surface. She was a kind, and gentle, and always made sure there was plenty of food to go around for many stray cats, dogs and birds who frequented her doorstep.

 

She hid her persona behind a veil of darkness because that was who she was.”

 

 

Walking outside on the roads on a rainy day is the type of fun I like to have. Watching people carry multicoloured umbrellas as they scurry along, the beautiful raincoats come out, people rushing everywhere splashing in puddles, wearing boots. Vehicles pass by glistening in the tiny rays of sun poking out in between clouds, bouncing off the water bubbles still residing on the hood of the car, not conceding to fall off even though gusts of wind flow through as vehicles pass by, holding on to dear life. Walking through a slight drizzle, happy as a daisy, my life couldn’t be more content than at that moment.

 

Once I done with everything, had a bath, dried my hair and sit down to enjoy a book, ill sit and listen, for one final time, to the roaring storm outside, I love the mix of sounds, like an orchestra playing outside just for me. There is nothing more pleasurable than going through a rainy day, enjoying each step of the experience. The aftermath is always cool and collected calm.

 

“But more, much more than anything else, she loved the rain!!

The gentle pellets falling on her roof could calm any raging sea inside her mind. The sudden cool wind that swept through her window, making her white lace curtains bellow like that famous picture of Merilyn Monroe’s white dress. The smell of fresh leaves intoxicated her. She could sit for hours watching the splashes of water turn into muddy puddles and tiny droplets of rainfall off the leaves. These are the rare moments she would lose control of her backward demeanour and run outside to feel the rain on her body. She would stand outside, shivering, but so happy and content, arms stretched out, face upwards looking at the heavens, as the rain washed down on her like magic, washing away all her insecurities and sadness. This was the only time she didn’t care who was watching for she only needed the comfort of the droplets to keep her company. She felt as though the heavens were listening to her and sending her happiness when she needed it the most. This was magic. No other words could describe what it meant.

                                                              

But for today she was content to lay back in bed, eyes closed, and just feel the rain. Thunder rumbled quietly but demanding in the horizon. It's still very early in the morning, dawn is just peeping out, but the clouds have completely silenced the sun giving the day a gloomy hue. Flashes of light flare up her windows communicating to her that lightning rods were shooting out. She could almost hear each pellet falling down from heaven for the first time reaching the earth, turning the rhythm into a lullaby only she could hear. All her senses encouraged her to jump out of bed and run outside to meet them, but she controlled herself for she wanted to take it all in completely, in the quiet darkness of her room.”

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If you are a person who shares the same emotions as I have or do the same things I do, I can assure you, you too are a pluviophile. There are many of us, in secret and in public, but we are linked through an invisible bond, through the water, through the rain, through the storms.

 

“The rain still splashes down and she’s still mesmerized, unwilling to get up and face the world when so much beauty already exists right here at this moment. She makes a quick decision to take the day off and enjoy her beloved storm. The storms raging inside her heart are slowly subsiding and she feels the calm washing over her.

 

Time standstill and all that’s left is the sound of rain, the splashes on the window, the chilly cold air, and herself. Everything else becomes secondary because she’s about to be reset. Everything negative is diminishing and positivity is increasing. She’s calmer now, her strength is being renewed. All her troubles can wait until tomorrow.

 

Here and now all she is going to do is enjoy the rain, feel it, and rest in its arms. And for now, that is all that matters to her.”

 

https://thoughtcatalog.com

https://pluviophile.net/

 

 

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