Sunday Reflections, Again

I heard Kevin Costner say in an interview that "everyone prostitutes himselfno matter what you are doing. It's convenient that actors most seem like prostitutes, selling their behavior for money. The truth is, however we all do that on some level."

The rain is falling outside. Medieval philosophers said that everything in this world is composed of a form, an essence, and a purpose. The form of the rain is what? The very water perhaps. The shape of the thing we see is the form. So, the clouds warn us of rain coming. The rain falls on our gardens and our rose beds.
What is the essence of the rain? Perhaps it is the sort before and after? Perhaps it is the sullen peace that accompanies rainy days. The essence is not what we see of the thing, but it is the thing without being seen. The rainy day is the diminishment of the sun, the accumulation of moisture in the clouds-- the scientists call it "precipitation," a precipitous word in itself. Dan Peterson would find it fitting that the "essence explanation" is incomplete.
Then, there is its purpose. To make green our yards, to color our gardens, to swell the rivers-that is what the rain causes. Are those its purpose ? Why does the rain fall? We parents know that the explanation "Because God Said so" is incomplete, an evasion from details. Why does the rain fall? The scientists believe that if we knew it, we would be as God. Philotheologians know better: we are not the Rainmakers.

I wrote Friday night until 6:00 a.m. on Saturday. I composed pieces to other pieces, starts to stories, and even a couple of endings to stories not yet begun.
Am I a writer because I do things like that? I don't think that is why. I'm beginning to wonder if

Time to stop. You know why.