Forgetting

I love storms. And tonight’s is especially wonderful. The whistling, howling thrust of the winds, the fervent rain as it beats upon the glass windows, the crash of thunder and the clap of lightning. In those few seconds of blinding light, you can see the rolling landscape for miles—hills, trees, grass, and pure white sky. I feel so small compared to such an eternity of vastness…insignificant, even. It’s humbling to take in the glory of nature in its splendor, whether it is flexing its muscles during a storm or offering peaceful tranquility in the breeze. What often goes unnoticed is what is often the most magnificent.

I think that my favorite part about thunderstorms--I also have a soft spot for hurricanes as well--stems from the fact that they are utterly, completely chaotic. They're like a physical example of emotions gone wild: they impose upon structure and order a chaos so dauntingly threatening and dangerous that everything else couldn't possibly be worse in comparison. It's as if everything stops for a storm...your worries, your cares...and it consumes you whole-heartedly until at last it is peaceful. Hence, "the calm after the storm". It's really quite beautiful if you think about it. Storms take precedence over everything else and make you forget. To forget is sometimes, the greatest of all gifts.

Of course, I love trees and grass and the smell of the woods in summer as well. The rustle of wild animals in the leaves of the brush by my house, or the gentle movement of the water in the nearby pond as the wind kisses it. I sound like such a tree-hugger. But really, to any one of my privileged friends who lives a highly industrialized, urban life, I do hope you take the time to bask in the splendor of the natural world. Nothing manmade can compare to its majesty.