The Three Sages and "I Hate the Rain"
I hate the rain.
Looking out the window, I see a gray sky reflected on the wet ground.
On days I forget my umbrella, I get soaked to the bone, and there is nothing quite as unpleasant as wet socks.
Walking was so much fun on sunny days, but for some reason, on rainy days, I feel as if even the depths of my heart are turning into mud.
On my way to school, I muttered to myself.
"Why am I even alive on a day like this?"
Then, in the corner of my vision, I saw three shadows standing still without umbrellas.
One was a philosopher standing with his coat collar turned up, staring into the distance Albert Camus.
One was a haiku poet holding a brush quietly under a Japanese umbrella Yosa Buson.
And the other was a psychiatrist with his eyes closed as if listening intently to the sound of the rain Viktor Frankl.
I couldn't believe my eyes.
Yet, they were certainly there, offering words instead of umbrellas.
◆ Camus
"This rain you hate is absurd. I understand.
But you know, life is also like rain.
It falls unexpectedly, and it is unreasonable.
Even so.
Sisyphus continues to roll his stone.
Even in the rain, you can create your own meaning.
For example, like drawing a path on the ground you tread with those wet shoes."
◆ Buson
"The sound of rain is not just noise.
If you listen closely, there is a haiku in it.
'Spring rain, a wet cat, under the lamp.'
Without the rain, this poem and this cat would not have been born.
There are things that can only be seen on rainy days, my boy."
◆ Frankl
"Even in the Nazi concentration camps, I saw people who found meaning in life.
It is not something found only on 'sunny days'.
Rather, the question is not 'why does this rain fall,' but
'what do I choose to do in this rain?'
It is fine if you hate the rain.
But the fact that you are still living—
that alone has value."
I shook my head.
"Even so, I still... I can't like it.
I get wet, it's cold, it's dark, I have no motivation...
Even if you tell me it's beautiful or meaningful, I'm just fed up with it right now."
The sages did not even laugh.
They simply accepted it.
"Yes, that is fine," said Frankl.
"Hating it is also a form of sensitivity," said Buson.
"But you are still living. There is a beauty of 'rebellion' in that," said Camus.
That night, I went out onto my balcony.
It was still raining, but the air felt clear somehow.
Like freshly washed air, quiet and cold.
When I looked down, water had pooled in a small flowerpot, and a tiny sprout was spreading its leaves.
I muttered.
"...Well, I suppose it's okay to have days like this too."
"People can walk even in the rain.
Even if your shoes get wet, your heart doesn't have to.
Especially when you feel like screaming that 'there is no meaning,'
the strength of being alive is being tested.
Even if the world is cold and wet—
you can keep the sun within you.
That is the 'art' of living in an absurd world.
The rain falls. But you are walking.
Isn't that beautiful enough on its own?"
1. Albert Camus (French philosopher and writer)
An existentialist who said, "Even in the midst of absurdity, humans can create their own meaning for life."
2. Yosa Buson (Edo-period haiku poet and painter)
A person of sensibility who scoops poetic emotion from scenes of rain, as if to say, "There are haiku that only bloom on rainy days."
3. Viktor Frankl (Psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor)
A man who believed, "The meaning of life changes according to the situation. There are values that can only be seen on rainy days."
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