Today, the rain came down in heavy droplets—

not a shower, not a storm,

but a steady punctuation of the sky.

Yet as I walked, I felt something curious:

a rhythm… a spacing…

as if I could slip gently between each falling drop.

And in that moment, Spirit whispered:

There is always a space.

A space between the noise.

A space between the thoughts.

A space between the heaviness of the world.

A space where you and God meet in quiet recognition.

Walking between the raindrops reminded me that life is not just what falls upon us—

it is how we move through it.

It is the subtle knowing that even in a downpour,

there is a pathway meant only for you.

It is the grace of realizing that you don’t have to outrun the storm;

you simply have to align with its rhythm.

When you move with Presence,

the world rearranges itself around your steps.

The space between the raindrops is the same space

between the thoughts in meditation—

that soft doorway into the Infinite,

where time slows,

intuition sharpens,

and the Divine becomes unmistakable.

This is where we remember:

Protection is not always a shield—

sometimes it is a frequency.

Guidance is not always a voice—

sometimes it is the quiet opening between falling droplets.

And mastery is not always control—

sometimes it is simply the courage

to walk with such stillness inside

that life cannot help but part for you.

Today the rain taught me that.

Not through thunder,

not through lightning,

but through the delicate, sacred invitation

to walk in the spaces

where God breathes.