Rainy days are like a permission slip for me to rest, to pause, to slow down, to move slowly, to stay cozy… I love rainy days, something about them is so warm and comforting.

In a world that constantly teaches us to value productivity above all, where our worth is often judged by how much we can achieve, I am making a conscious effort to unlearn this pattern. I’m learning to embrace pauses, to slow down, because it’s in these quieter moments that I discover beauty often missed in the hustle. In rest, I’ve begun to find a peace that was always elusive before.

On these recent rainy mornings, I’ve found a new ritual. Waking up before the rest of the house stirs, I settle onto the couch in my office, cradling a hot cup of chai in my hands. It’s a time of quiet being — sometimes meditating, sometimes simply existing in a peaceful nothingness. This has become a cherished part of my day: the warmth of the chai, the hush of the early hours, the dark sky outside mingled with the soft glow of dim lights, cocooning myself on the sofa. Yet, amidst this tranquility, a part of me wrestles with guilt, nagging me about ‘wasted’ time. It urges me towards more ‘productive’ activities like exercise, work, or studying, even suggesting I prolong my fast. But on days when I’m grappling with myself, these rainy mornings seem to wash away the inner turmoil. It feels as if the skies, the universe itself, is granting me permission to take it easy, to embrace the gentle pace of the day.