Without Rain, There are no Rainbows: When we add something bright to a dark situation we can amplify its appeal (but this is not a good vibes only post!)

Hey everybody, it’s Jill here.

It’s spring and that means some pretty schizophrenic weather here in New England. Bright sun and warmth one minute, bone-chilling cold and downpours the next. And while my mood tends to fluctuate right along with the gray to sunny skies, I also love the idea that without rain, there are no rainbows. Not to mention the tulips, daffodils, forsythia, and other multi-colored flowers that thrive when they are treated to alternating sunshine and rain.

We see this in many metaphors—rain leading to rainbows, lemons becoming lemonade, lotuses (loti?) blooming out of mud—that when we add something bright, sweet, or warm to an otherwise dark, sour, or murky situation we can amplify its appeal. To me this isn’t about toxic positivity, pretending the rain doesn’t feel miserable, but about acknowledging our pain and turning it into something more.

I found out recently the hard cover edition of my book Imposter No More was being ‘remaindered.’ If you’ve never heard this term, just think of it as a four-letter word for authors. It means the remainder of your books are going to be sold to stores at beyond-bargain-basement prices. It’s sad. It feels like a failure. But just like bookstores can buy the remaindered copies at a steal, so can the author. So that’s just what I did.

My first order of business upon receiving the books was to bundle a few of them up with a blank journal (left over from when I published Be Mighty) and a handwritten note. Then I drove around town and placed the little twine-wrapped packages in the four Little Free Libraries (LFL) around my town. I invited my neighbors to reach out to me personally so we might connect and know one another.

Every author wants their book to be a runaway hit, but the reality is that rarely happens. Writers know this and keep writing anyway. We endure the many challenges of publishing because we hope our words and ideas will help someone. It’s that simple.

So while I had no control over my hardcover book being remaindered*, I still had the ability to share my words in the hopes that they would find someone at just the right time. And I put them in my local LFLs in hopes I might meet a neighbor or even make a new friend. To me, this lemons-into-lemonade story is an example of what it means to be psychologically flexible. To find, and live, your values—the who and how you want to live—even amid life’s many pains.

So how might you add sun to your rain and create a rainbow on an otherwise cold, wet day?