Mud

A soft, sticky mixture of earth and water that, when it dries, can become as hard as rock. Mud’s cured form has allowed humanity to eat and retreat to safety. A mixture that is created from something that may seem impenetrable- the earth- and, when mixed, becomes permeable. We have all seen mud destroy and create, but we rarely consider our relationship with mud.

Every child who has seen water meet soil has unavoidably moved toward the reflections in the grained mush. They splashed in puddles, scooped the sludge, and kneaded it between their fingers like a diluted dough. It is difficult not to be so curious about something that is seemingly hideous at first glance, sometimes odious by nature, but most times, after the first few seconds of interacting with it, it is not something to be feared.

As a child, I retreated to mud. When the rain arrived, I thought most people associated it with depression; however, it was those days that cured my depression. I felt alone for most of my life, especially early on, but in those days I found myself outside, in the rain, seated in dirt. It wasn’t about comfort, but about the stillness of the moment. Hearing the rain showering around me, creating puddles as the ground began to erode between the phalanges of my hands and feet.

Whether it was my connection to the earth in those moments or finding solace in rain, the outcome was always the same: my joy in mud. It became more of a problem when I felt the need to recreate those moments on the sunny days. My persistence in finding mud became a necessity for survival. It was one way I could create happiness for myself through sensory overload.

To this day, I still think many people find rain depressing. For me, I still find joy in the rain because of the nostalgia that mud still brings me. Reflecting on my innocence has led me to one crucial insight in this post: some of life’s most remarkable moments linger in mud.

Find your mud.