The Rainmaker Who Lost the Rain

My terrible analogies will make me famous someday…

Imagine you are a Rainmaker.

Not a weather forecaster. Not a scientist tracking storm systems. No—a true Rainmaker. When you wanted it to rain, the clouds formed. Thunder rolled in obedience. And when you have had enough? A simple thought sent sunlight pouring through the clouds.

Your world adjusted to your will.

This made life easier—not just for you, but for everyone. The crops grew. The rivers flowed. When towns suffered from drought, they looked to you, the Rainmaker. You didn't think about the mechanics of the rain. You just decided, and it happened.

Then one day, it didn’t.

The skies were dry. The grass withered. Dust clung to the soles of your feet like a reminder of your growing impotence. You raised your hands, whispered your command, but nothing came. The clouds did not gather. The wind refused to stir.

At first, you told yourself it was temporary. “It’s just the atmosphere. Maybe a momentary imbalance.” But days turned into weeks. People noticed. They murmured.

And so did your anxiety.

What if the rain never returns? What if I was never in control at all?

Now, your power, once unquestioned, was under scrutiny, not only by others but by yourself. You didn’t know how to fix it. You didn’t even know where the rain came from in the first place. You had always assumed you were in control. But now you realize: you were only managing something far older and more mysterious.

The rain had a mind of its own.

And so, you changed.

Instead of commanding the skies, you watched them. You planted new crops that needed less water. You built irrigation systems, learned how to capture dew, and started harvesting wisdom from farmers and not from your ego.

You began to manage the rain, not command it.

You Are NOT the Rainmaker — And That’s Okay

There’s a story I’ve been reflecting on—a metaphor, really. It’s about a Rainmaker who once had the power to summon and stop the rain at will. But one day, that power failed. And the Rainmaker realized: they never truly controlled the rain. They only thought they did.

Emotions work the same way.

We grow up thinking we should control how we feel. “Don’t be angry.” “Just calm down.” “Be happy.” The language we use suggests emotional control is a simple on/off switch. But the truth is much messier—and much more human.

We don’t control our emotions. At best, we manage them.

Like weather, emotions come and go according to complex systems we don’t always understand. Sure, we can influence our emotional climate—through sleep, nutrition, boundaries, therapy, breathing exercises, or mindfulness—but we can’t simply decide to stop feeling sad or anxious or angry.

That idea—that illusion—sets us up for failure.

Real emotional maturity comes when we stop expecting mastery and start building management systems. When it rains emotionally, we grab a raincoat. We postpone the lawn mowing and lean into a slower day. When anxiety storms in, we recognize its arrival and adapt our schedules, our expectations, our self-talk.

It’s not about weakness. It’s about wisdom.

We manage our emotions best by designing systems when we're calm: grounding techniques, reflection tools, self-care routines. These are like emergency kits you pack before the flood—not in the middle of it.

So the next time it rains, emotionally speaking, don’t waste energy blaming yourself for the clouds. Just reach for your umbrella.

Because you were never the Rainmaker.

And that’s okay.