On the way back to mincha several hours later, I was lost in thought. Mostly I was thinking about a line from the first episode of "Six Feet Under", the only one I've seen, where a man berates his family - "We've forgotten how to grieve". It is considered inappropriate in our culture to show too much emotion. Few people break the decorum of a funeral to throw themselves on the grave, to weep uncontrollably, to really lose it. As I looked around me in shul that morning, I felt that we'd lost this ability in prayer as well.
If I'd really gotten into the spirit of atonement, if I'd beaten my chest with force, instead of a symbolic thump, if I'd truly wept in contrition, I'd be ostracized as a nutcase. Which I think is too bad...
So I was trying hard to get into the mood on my solitary walk back to shul. I started humming some made up melodies, plaintive, lachrymose, to get the feeling right. And just as I turned onto Crawford Avenue, a car swept past me and drenched me in cold rainwater. Woke me up right away! And snapped me out of my contemplative mood.
Don't know what to make of it, I guess. Ironic that though I avoided the rain in the morning, by evening I was wet. Karma.