September 11, 2014 - The Storm

Truly, I do not know which is more ferocious:  The storm that rages outside or the one that rages within me.  I can feel it building and building and building, sometimes for days.  I start to get on edge.  I get nervous.  I pace.  The clouds gather far out in the ocean, and they start to swirl and writhe.  And all along, secretly inside me, the grayness grows and threatens me.  Now I smell the water in the air as it clings heavily to my face and clothing, and then I feel my tears as they cling heavily to my heart.  It's a storm!  It's coming toward us!  Bring all the animals in!  Fasten everything down!  There's a storm raging!  It's raging and seething . . . closer and closer it comes, and the pressure builds in my mind until I think I must be going mad.

Then finally, finally it manifests.  The boats are thrown around the cove, the trees are bending, the wind is wailing, and I am screaming.  I am screaming!  And just as the surf pounds the shore with an astronomical tide, I pound my fists on tables and counters!  I rage!  Because there's a storm inside me and it has to come out.

I manifest the storm and it pulls me into its depths.

And then it does come out, in all its glory, and everyone who beholds it quakes at its power.  Then it recedes.  The boats stop rocking.  The trees kneel in relief.  The wind falls to the ground.  The rain abates.  The tears stop.  I get up to assess the damage.  What is broken?  What must be repaired?  But I am not sad anymore.  And I am not angry.  And there is no more storm.  Because everything was washed clean and everything is brand new.  The animals are all safe.  The fear has died down.  I survived.  I am not dejected, but instead, I am joyful!  Every storm I weather teaches me its secrets, and when it leaves, the sun shines brilliantly on millions of raindrops and tears, each one reflecting its own beautiful world.