A Magnified Look at the Beauty in the Seemingly-Mundane

A Magnified Look at the Beauty in the Seemingly-Mundane

By John Murray ’24

There are some metrics by which many would agree constitutes it: a sunny day, a crisp white shirt, or maybe even a meadow of wildflowers. For me, there is nothing so beautiful as rain.

When I was little, I often found myself staring out the various windows of my house appreciating the powerful downpours which made their way above my town. Perhaps my fascination with rain started out as mere curiosity, but quickly it grew to a great appreciation. It wasn't long until it blossomed into a regular routine when the sky grew dark with the gray clouds, I would sit in my grandmother's recliner a chair that was parallel to a window with a perfect view of the cul-de-sac by my home. It was from that vantage point that I found I could best see the rain and its wondrous tidings.

I came to that special spot during so many countless rainstorms that the view out that window remains forever ingrained in my memory the way the water pooled into the dipped in the pavement, forming the same familiar puddles that reflected the image of the solitary lamp post which illuminated the street in the night. It was in that reflection that I realized what was by far the rain's most beautiful tenet. It was the rain's ability to transform everything it touched -- the boring, ordinary lamppost which previously populated no space in my mind, was suddenly, through a reflection in the puddle, an all-new curiosity which, when unified with the wet pavement, shined its light to behold detailed swirls and patterns. That was another feature of the rain's beauty — its ability to unify everything it touched. While the world we live in may often seem dominated by rigid rules and brutish borders, as soon as the rain falls, it all quickly melts away into something shining and beautiful.

Alas! Nothing lasts forever, and that worn, rain-drenched pavement I grew up with was paved over anew with a fresh matte black finish. Gone were the worn-in dips that gave the street its character. Despite this, the rain I grew to love saw no less appreciation in my thoughts for it did not matter what surface it married with, the rain always managed to breathe new life. As transient as the world is, the rain will always come again to bless the land with its transformative presence. I take comfort in the rain’s constancy because I know no matter where I am when the rain comes, the world comes alive.