Puddle, Puddle, on the Ground...

What reflection have you found?

By Jonathan Kaplan, Ph.D.

The past few days have been quite rainy and blustery here in NYC.  Not wanting to get rain in my eyes, I found myself leaning forward and looking at the ground, while dodging pedestrians and their umbrellas.  As I watched what passed underfoot, I became more aware of what I could see down there.

Cracks in the pavement, and lots of black and white spots--remnants of chewing gum trampled by the masses--and, more interestingly, puddles.  Lots and lots of puddles.  Like any busy urbanite, most of my effort was focused on dodging them and making sure that I didn't get splashed.  My behavior stands in stark contrast to what my young son does:  stop abruptly in front of each puddle and dramatically jump over it.  He grins enthusiastically whenever he clears a puddle.  And, if he doesn't make it, his smile is even bigger, perhaps correlated with the giganitic splash he just made. 

Anyway, as I found myself looking at puddles, I started noticing the reflections in them.  Dark skyscrapers, white clouds, yellow taxi cabs, and red stoplights shimmered across the surface.  Interesting shadows darkened the waters, while streaks of light could be momentarily blinding.  It reminded me of impressionist art, especially the urban works of Gustave Caillebotte (such as Paris:  Rainy Day). 

So, as you're walking around the city today (and on future rainy days), why not take a peek and see what beautiful paintings lie underfoot?  And, if the mood strikes you, jump over them!

"I hate the rain!"

By Jonathan Kaplan, Ph.D.

Walking through Park Slope recently, I overheard a woman muttering to herself about how much she hated the rain.  Bent over and walking quickly, she was cursing under her breath as she rushed off with her umbrella.  Normally, this would not be out-of-the-ordinary.  What made it strange, though, was that fact that it was not even raining!

The sky looked dark and the forecast called for rain.  However, in that moment (and indeed all morning long), there was no rain.  This woman was making herself feel miserable by ruminating over something that was not happening.  Presumably, she expected to be unhappy later when it rained, so she had started to make herself feel bad now.  Why?  Is there any inherent advantage to getting a jump-start on feeling irritated, annoyed, and inconvenienced?

This is a trap that catches all of us periodically.  We expect to feel bad about something, so we start feeling worried, angry, or sad about it now.  If it doesn't happen, then we usually find something else to make us feel disappointed, stressed, or anxious.  If it does happen, then we think, "Aha!  I knew it!"  What does this get us?   Why not take a moment to recognize what's actually happening, rather than forecasting misery?

As for the woman I ran into, I hope that she found a moment of peace or--perhaps more profoundly--recognized that there are many reasons to feel grateful for rain.  As for the weather, it never rained.