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  • Dave Driver

Tomorrow May Rain So I'll Follow the Sun

Updated: Jun 4

Do you ever think you know something, then look closer and find out you actually had it wrong?


Hard to believe, I know. I mean the part about you (or me) being wrong. Especially, if you are of a certain gender. Well, I am of a certain gender, but apparently not the right certain gender to not be wrong. At least, I'm pretty sure about that, but, I could be wrong.


For example, recently—both separately and as a coalition—four members of my extended family, of a certain gender, representing three generations (including a 7 and a 12 year old), concurred with innate certainty that a certain gender is always right. We were playing pickleball and I called the 12-year old out on a ruling she made. She disagreed pleasantly, the strength of her argument mainly on the basis a certain gender is not wrong. I looked to the others, of any gender, for a bit of help and received exactly none. Instead (it was as if the heavens opened up in song) a quartet of beautiful voices simultaneously affirmed the 12-year old's claim. The benediction came from the 7 year old, we're always right, you know.


Knowing the folly of my next question, but unable to resist, I offered, "almost always, right?" Not one took the bait. Not one replied. There were some eye-rolls though. At least, I'm pretty sure about that, but, I could be wrong.


Now, to be fair, this is not unfamiliar territory for me, to be wrong both in statement and in fact. It's just something easier left unsaid or better yet, ignored. However, members of my gender have a well earned and oft repeated (by a certain other gender) reputation of not being nearly as clever as we think we are. And when we are right, this rarity is explained away by some idiom about blind squirrels eventually finding acorns.


In my own defense (I think) there was one occasion when my wife and I stopped at a Jamba Juice. I ordered the orange one and the 15-year old Jamba Juice professional behind the counter asked if I'd like to add a boost. Quickly scanning the boost options on the board, I landed on the one I had to try. "Yes, I'll take the Fem Boost. I'd like to know what it feels like to always be right." One sip and, for the briefest of moments the heavens opened. I saw the light. Maybe the 7-year old was right, after all.


Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled intention:

Do you ever think you know something, then look closer and find out you actually had it wrong?

Like I did about this Beatles song, I'll Follow the Sun.


In today's post, Tomorrow May Rain So I'll Follow the Sun, I was going to dazzle you with the brilliant teaching of letting go of those things that don't serve us (e.g. the worry of tomorrow's rain) and how we should focus on the reality that is now (the sun). I was going to point out how worries take our minds off of the tangibles of now, and invite us, rather, to waste time on scenarios cast in vapor. How some things, though worthy in and of themselves still might not serve us by holding onto them, or might hinder us by waiting for them. So I was going to tell you to pick those things that serve you. Let go of the rest. That was going to be my inspired post.


But before I committed that theme to this post, I pulled up the lyrics and was quickly reminded that I know the refrain from thousands of songs, and the lyrics of almost none of them.


From my first thorough re-reading of I'll follow the sun I concluded it had nothing to do with being present.


In fact, it seemed the sentiment of an impatient and selfish partner

One day you'll look to see I've gone


One who cannot be trusted to stick around through the tough times

For tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun


But I could not ignore the underlying tenderness of the words and the music.

And now the time has come and so my love I must go


Nor could I dismiss the gentle handling of the unfolding future

And though I lose a friend in the end you will know


There is such loving kindness in the tone of this song that I circled back and read it again. This time with a heart of gentleness and kindness. Guess what.


It became, for me, a song not of impatience and selfishness, but one of love and compassion. Yes, and also one coaxing us not to worry. And, yes, one encouraging us to let go of things. Letting go, however, not with judgment, but in a loving, caring manner. One that holds in its heart a compassion for the other. It says, you are worthy. I am worthy. And while these thing of worth might be a person or a thing or even an event, they are not what we let go of in this song. This song, to me, is about letting go of the timing.

And now the time has come and so my love I must go


To force the issue is to risk making it less than it can be, or to make more of it than it's worth. When I try to make something work in my timing, way too often it leaves a taste of incompleteness, of being less full than it could have been. To be sure, I will have some form of what I desired, but desire is different than need. However, when I am the servant to timeliness rather than the master of my desire, when I am willing to honor the best outcome by trusting the timing, that something either comes back in fullness or it does not come back at all, and therein, I have my answer.

And though I lose a friend in the end you will know.


Suffice it to say, I was wrong. Twice. Sort of. I was wrong in my initial interpretation. It wasn't just about letting it go. I was also wrong when I interpreted the sentiment within the song to be that of an impatient and selfish partner.


On the other hand, I was right. Twice. Sort of. It was partly neither and partly both.


It was about letting it go and it was the sentiment of a partner, of timeliness. The difference being it was from a heart of gentleness, kindness, concern, and love, rather than a spirit of judgment. And it was about honoring, not so much time itself, as honoring the wisdom of timeliness.

Often I am wrong. But not always. Sometime I am right. Not always and, perhaps, not almost always, but eventually. That is my strength.


Furthermore, I am grateful that a certain gender is always right. And not almost always. But always. It is without reservation I believe this to be true; that in some manner the heavens opened up and graced a certain gender with the light of truth. Is one gender's path to truth better? It is tempting to answer yes, but a thing is only better if it serves you, if you know how to use it. If you use it well. One gets to the truth in a blink, the other one acorn at a time. But to get there well requires a heart of gentleness, kindness, concern, and love. And the willingness to follow the sun. May all genders follow the sun, for tomorrow may rain.


I'll Follow the Sun

One day you'll look to see I've gone

For tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun

Some day you'll know I was the one

But tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun


And now the time has come and so my love I must go

And though I lose a friend in the end you will know oh


One day you'll find that I have gone

But tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun


If tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun


And now the time has come and so my love I must go

And though I lose a friend in the end you will know oh


One day you'll find that I have gone

But tomorrow may rain so I'll follow the sun


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