An Emotional Weather Report

Listen to this song by the gravel-voiced crooner and barfly poet Tom Waits. It’s “Emotional Weather Report” from one of his earlier discs, “Nighthawks at the Diner”. If you like, you can follow along with the lyrics as you listen.

The droll way Waits delivers the song, which equates a television weather report to his emotional state, is perfect. We know nothing more about Waits’ problem other than the fact that his “baby” left him. But we get a detailed metaphorical description of this upset. Instead of feeling sorry for him, we’re more inclined to laugh. He’s such a wordsmith!

With a 103-millibar high-pressure zone
And a weak pressure ridge extending from
My eyes down to my cheeks since
You left me, baby
And put the vice grips on my mental health

Emotional Weather Report, Tom Waits, from Nighthawks at the Diner

Turbulence? What turbulence?

More often than not, it’s weather itself that imposes emotional turbulence on a person. Pouring rain happens a lot in this part of world, more often, one hopes than break-ups in the Tom Waits sense. 

The recent grey drabness of late fall and the temperature’s bitter edge, especially in the mornings, inspire dreary emotions in me. Padding out to the kitchen, my toes are freezing, and the chill grips the whole of me before I can find a sweater and socks to put on. I’m still shivering as I light the fire and put the coffee on, and that being done, it will be a while before I feel closer to warmth. But the despondency lingers until there is some sun, at least.

The poor weather we’ve just experienced isn’t that dramatic, but there isn’t much funny about it. Tom Waits continues:

… Tornado watches issued shortly
Before noon Sunday, for the areas
Including the western region
Of my mental health
And the northern portions of my
Ability to deal rationally with my
Disconcerted precarious emotional
Situation, it’s cold out there …
Colder than a ticket taker’s smile
At the Ivar Theatre on a Saturday night

Summer Spoiled Me

Thank you, Tom! But the drabby emotion I’m feeling right now doesn’t even feel like mine. I’d grown used to the sun and warmth of summer days. The recent weather change still seems harsh, almost unjust. Feels like I’ve run into a lamppost!

I’m most comfortable in a sunny disposition, and this shift in demeanour feels foreign. Yet it’s all too familiar. “Déjà vu all over again,” noted Yogi Berra 1

Living on this island is like moving through a symphony of emotions, with the ever-changing weather as a conductor. The rain-soaked winters and the warm summers define the emotional landscape, the diminuendos and crescendos depending on your state of mind.

Grey Drabness: A Canvas for Reflection

Growing up in Vancouver, I was no stranger to long stretches of gloomy weather. The constant rain and overcast skies could make life feel dreary and muted. The swishing of traffic over slick roads, the mucky lawns, and torrents of water pouring through the gutters, dripping off trees. You’d feel cold and wet just looking out the window

However, that same weather experienced on Pender Island has a way of turning the seemingly mundane (as in the city) into something more profound. The drumming of raindrops on the roof can make you feel closed in. Still, just as quickly, it becomes a meditative soundtrack, inviting introspection and a deeper connection with the natural world.

Sun and the Lightness of Being

When the sun breaks through the clouds, the island becomes a haven of light and warmth. The contrast between the greyness and brilliance of a sunny day is magical. Islanders celebrate this newfound lightness of being with a bounce in their step, a quicker laugh, or a leisurely stroll through the neighbourhood. A perch on a log at Medicine Beach looking down Bedwell Harbour.

The darkness and rain fade into the distance, and herein lies one of the pleasures of island living. I’ve realized that the moments spent in its absence heightened my appreciation for the prodigal sun. It’s a reminder that joy and warmth are often best appreciated after a spell of gloom.

The Winter Blues and Beyond

Winter on Pender can be a test of resilience. The rain, the penetrating dampness, and the unrelenting darkness can wear on the spirit. I’ve witnessed newcomers who, enchanted by a summer on the island, want to move here forever. Then, they question their decision in the midst of a winter deluge. The grey skies and the constant rain can lead to a sense of cabin fever, a longing for the sun that seems elusive.

Not long after Jennifer and I came to Pender, I met another newcomer who grappled with the emotional toll of the island’s winter weather after moving from rural Ontario. The initial enchantment gave way to frustration, and by January, he was packing up, seeking the sunnier promise of Sudbury, Ontario. The experience was a stark reminder that, despite the island’s charm, the emotional weather can be a formidable force.

Accepting the Emotional Weather

The temptation to escape unfavourable weather is universal, whether it’s the freezing temperatures of an eastern Canadian winter or the persistent rain on Pender Island. But the key lies not in resisting the emotional weather but in embracing it as an integral part of island life.

I’ve never been one to leave behind something I don’t like at the back door. Attempting to will away dark feelings is futile—they persist. Returning from a tropical escape to the same dreariness only emphasizes this point. Instead of viewing the rain as a source of depression, seeing it as part of the island’s totality is more fruitful.

Finding Wholeness in the Rain

Amid winter muck, clogged eaves, and slippery decks, there’s an opportunity to praise the rain and all its accompanying nuances. The rain splashing on hot bread loaves being carried from Mildrith, the wood-fired oven, the cold in the house in the morning, and the windstorms with power outages contribute to the rich tapestry of island living.

It may seem like a struggle compared to the stillness of a summer evening, but praising it all—the winter muck and the summer wine—brings everything together into a profound oneness. The light and dark, the mud and grass, the sunlight and rain, contentment and restlessness are all threads in the fabric of island life. There’s no need to choose one; they just are.

Mixed Weather Patterns Ahead

Weather forecast for tomorrow? Expect rain, wind, a little snow mixed with glorious sun, a lot of peace and warmth right down to your very soul. Navigating emotional weather requires not resistance but acceptance—a celebration of the totality that island living brings. 

Now, if my “baby” actually up and left me, I don’t know what I’d do! Maybe I’d choose a sandy beach in a tropical climate… for a while. “High tonight, low tomorrow and precipitation expected.”

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