Several drops of rain hit my head and I wondered if I should go ahead and put my hood up to protect me. I had a love hate relationship with rain, especially the kind of rain that taunts you with slow drips and drizzles. So far it had been a productive day despite the rain, that is to say, I had lazed the morning away and then gone to two books shops in search of anything by Khalil Gibran. I’d just discovered his writing and immediately became enthralled. I had to read more. After a couple hours of searching and drooling over the hundreds of other books I hoped I would one day have a chance to read, I found a copy of The Prophet and now searched for the perfect place to sit, read and be inspired. I hoped that this crazy weather wouldn’t put a damper on an otherwise pleasant day. It was the one thing I had yet to figure out while living in Scotland. The weather was as moody as the people; so, I guess I hadn’t quite figured them out either.
As I walked to a nearby coffee shop (my second favourite thing besides books), I passed a young couple with their two little girls. They skipped behind their parents, pulling on their rain jacket sleeves and sang in defiance of the drizzles: “It’s raining nachos! It’s raining nachos!”, then giggled at the joke they made. It was a joke only childish innocence and silliness could understand, but I couldn’t help but smile; a small part of me wanted to dare to join in their chorus in defiance of my adulthood. I was reminded of all the things I used to do in the rain as a child, and wondered what people would think if I jumped into a nearby puddle of water and laughed at the world for no reason whatsoever. And that was it, I thought, how much had that little phrase destroyed the dreams of children and removed the innocence of how we once reasoned: “what people would think”. Or I should say, a fear of that phrase. Making decisions based out of fear of what those ‘other’ people would think has determined the rule of nations, caused love to end in despair and kept artists and geniuses from gracing the world with their feats and daring. What is it about that phrase? How can other people be so frightening? Maybe because we already know how much we judge others to realise how much others must be judging us.
But, perhaps there is a bright side to caring what others think, like the silver lining on the dark clouds that loom over my head. I open the door to the coffee shop, smile at the waiter, take my seat by the pastry shelf, and ponder. The social norms that guide our communities can bring harmony, and the wisdom of our elders can keep us from falling into chaos, but to fear the thoughts of others to the point of ceasing to live, only moves the chaos into individual hearts and minds. Yes, that silver lining could exist, but only in the absence of fear, only with that childlike innocence, that fearless daring that follows every young mind; a mind ready to learn, and ready to live, with the question “Why?” ever on its lips. Those minds tend to trust the voices closest to them, the voices that love them, more than they care about the ‘others’ they will never meet. Such a mind considers what other think and shrugs it shoulders when others say, “Shut up!” and then asks “Why?”; and waits for an answer that does more than command them to conform. They wait for answers that satisfy.
For a brief moment I lifted my head and thought, “Why not?” and was tempted to shout out “It’s raining nachos!” just for the heck of it, but thought the better of myself and preferred not to be considered a raving lunatic for the rest of the day. That answer would satisfy me for the present, but maybe, just maybe when I left I would jump into that puddle and see if anyone even noticed that I had.
The Written Word 
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