In my hopes of one day starting a business, I’d read article after article on Entrepreneur.com daily—back when it used to be free (several years prior to Jacob’s Well Chai). I remember one line that stayed with me: an entrepreneur’s superpower is learning—and as you learn, you learn to adapt.
It’s been raining non-stop since the end of July—two, almost three weeks now.
In the last ten years of Jacob’s Well Chai, even as I’ve wrestled with whether I’m a business person or an artist, I’ve committed myself to learning: how to create things, add value, practice introspection, understand why my brain works the way it does, tend relationships—and lately, understand the rain.
I wish I could say I’ve been religious about that commitment, but that would be a lie. Still, I’ve learned something quietly encouraging: even when we’re inconsistent, a thought once set in motion can be a diligent pursuer.
Like succulents—water them every so often, check on them once in a while, and they’ll be happier to see you than if you were all over them every day. Thoughts are like that too. Old ideas return: control (Stoicism), neuroscience (CBT), perspective. Some loops come full circle; some are still on their way; some are being formed again through new questions.
So without further ado:
3 lessons from the rain
- Sweep lightly
- Colors of the rain
- The rain eventually stops—it has to
1) Sweep lightly
I’ve been meaning to sweep the yard, but it kept raining. One morning I decided to sweep anyway and, within a few minutes, gave up.
This is endless.
More leaves fell. It just wouldn’t stop. And wet leaves—wet leaves are so hard to sweep.
A friend reminded me maybe it isn’t time to sweep. They’re not wrong. But it was time for me to sweep, and to realize something simple: sweeping wet leaves is frustrating. And frustration, when you stay with it, becomes a catalyst.
As I wrestled with the wet leaves on the floor, I learned one thing: sweep lightly. As lightly as you can. The more gentle you are, the more agreeable they become.
The appropriate work at the appropriate time—and the appropriate method—always prevails.
2) Colors of the rain
Rain has colors too, I just realized. Close to autumn, I guess—though I’ve never personally seen autumn.
Until recently, the color of rain was only gloom to me. Not even blue. Somehow the same shade, but a different hue.
Lately, rain has been signaling terracotta. Not as gloomy as pure overcast anymore.
3) The rain eventually stops (it has to)
The first few days of nonstop rain threw me into a mood—if I’m honest, slight feelings of depression.
The first thought I had was: now nothing can be done.
It surprised me that work was the first thing that came to mind. Just my programming, I suppose. Till the ground—the marching order never ends.
Until I resigned to the possibility that tomorrow might rain again. And the day after that. And the day after the day after.
So what?
I used to think: if situations and change are inevitable, and change almost always induces fear, are we doomed?
I still refuse to succumb to that. So I’ve been asking: what’s the next best variable that can be adjusted?
Lately, I find it to be recovery time.
Longer days require longer rests. That’s only sensible, right?
If things—situations, events—are bound to happen anyway, surrendering to that notion can indeed be depressing. Totally.
But what if, on the other side of the coin, it also means this: the faster the recovery time, the more it opens you up to receive what comes—so you can adapt, and eventually offer, share, and give again.
A note on counterweights
How much will it benefit us to be fully aware of the reality of counterweights—simply put, consequences?
Some call it karma. Some call it justice. Some call it conscience.
If those have something in common, it’s this: we rarely—almost never—see them at all. That makes it much easier to fall into the trap that things just happen randomly.
But it doesn’t mean that because we don’t fully understand the reason behind a thing, it becomes irrelevant or invalid—as if order depends on us for it to be real.
In this case, we’re left to trust.
Not blindly, of course. Investigate. Question. And once you think you’ve found it, trust your intuition. When it bothers you again, investigate again where necessary.
Go slow. Go deep.
Sweep lightly. Take another look at recovery time. The rain eventually stops. A storm is always coming—and so are sunny days.
—yourchaiboy
P.S. I had some really nice chats at the Prayer Room yesterday (August 10, 2026), and I want to honor that time by mentioning it. There are some things I don’t want to forget.
Another thing: today I was touted as “tea master.” I’ve been called as such many times before and i’ve always struggled with it. Yesterday, i’ve learnt to embrace it. I’m a tea master NOT because I’ve achieved mastery, but because I’ve kept the practice—and I’m still practicing. Thank you, Dona, for the timely reminder.