The intensity of the atmosphere caught my attention. It sounded loud and reckless outside and I felt inquisitively drawn toward the window. I wondered what was happening to make such a ruckus and what sight would greet me.
Since I was in the process of getting ready, I was in a state of complete undress. Propriety dictated that I merely peek out through the slats in my blinds, rather than throw them open as I wanted to do. The limited view only served to pique my curiosity. A storm was brewing. I felt excited.
One of my most favorite things about living in Utah is the violent autumn storms we get here. Usually they start in August and, apparently, some areas of the state have been pelted mercilessly. However, where I live, it has been noticeably dry and calm. I have been aware that I have missed the storms – the crocodile tear raindrops that splat in tablespoon-full drops with a force that leaves a sting; the thunder that rolls forever across the sky and lightning that strikes so near, I am left with a purple phantom image in my vision and my hair standing on end.
Grabbing whatever nearby articles of clothing and ending up sorely mismatched, I yanked the cord to the blinds. They zipped up with stunning agility and just the slightest wisp of frictional smoke, leaving my second-floor east-facing bedroom window wide open.
The sky was so heavy, it was black in the east and the wind was so fierce the atmosphere was laden with dust, casting the world in a misty haze. The thundering I had heard was not thunder but was, instead, the sound of the twenty-year-old trees in my complex fighting for their right to stand. The winds tore through them with unrelenting fury, violently breaking free anything weak or frail. Entire branches were sailing and swirling through the air, an accolade to Dorothy’s house. Garbage cans were lurching and letting loose their debris. Car alarms were going off everywhere in protest of the onslaught.
For a brief moment, I stood with my nose pressed to the glass, drinking in the sight. Then sense took over as one branch from the nearby large tree thudded into and then scratched eerily across my window panes. That was enough warning to back up just a few steps. The tree outside my window bowed reluctantly to the south-easterly bluster, its branches kissing the roof of the nearest car. The trunk near the ground is a good four feet in circumference and I could see it straining to hold its spot in the earth. The limbs shook and bent erratically, tossing out any loose twigs. As the winds battered all the trees, they bent and shook and swayed with the struggle and, still, remained standing.
As I stood there, watching the violence of nature, I felt chills coursing over my body. The hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms were standing on end. I could feel the energy that I use in my healing sessions pounding through the atmosphere mirrored in the strength of it in the storm. I was momentarily stunned that I have mastered the ability to harness the strength of the Universe and channel it for myself and others. I breathed deep when I realized how profoundly grateful I feel. I have chosen to step into who I really am and to honor that. With the energy of who I am and what I do so vividly displayed for me by the Universe, I felt awe. I also realized that sometimes being me feels as vast and as fierce as the storm I was witnessing.
I wanted more. I wanted to stand out in the courtyard feeling that wind bending me as I dance with it and it whips my hair into a frenzy about my head. Being that I had rollers in my hair and had only fifteen minutes to get ready, I acquiesced to the yearning to be outside, but limited myself to standing on my porch where the wind could buffet my body, but my hair remained fairly contained.
Since I was in the process of getting ready, I was in a state of complete undress. Propriety dictated that I merely peek out through the slats in my blinds, rather than throw them open as I wanted to do. The limited view only served to pique my curiosity. A storm was brewing. I felt excited.
One of my most favorite things about living in Utah is the violent autumn storms we get here. Usually they start in August and, apparently, some areas of the state have been pelted mercilessly. However, where I live, it has been noticeably dry and calm. I have been aware that I have missed the storms – the crocodile tear raindrops that splat in tablespoon-full drops with a force that leaves a sting; the thunder that rolls forever across the sky and lightning that strikes so near, I am left with a purple phantom image in my vision and my hair standing on end.
Grabbing whatever nearby articles of clothing and ending up sorely mismatched, I yanked the cord to the blinds. They zipped up with stunning agility and just the slightest wisp of frictional smoke, leaving my second-floor east-facing bedroom window wide open.
The sky was so heavy, it was black in the east and the wind was so fierce the atmosphere was laden with dust, casting the world in a misty haze. The thundering I had heard was not thunder but was, instead, the sound of the twenty-year-old trees in my complex fighting for their right to stand. The winds tore through them with unrelenting fury, violently breaking free anything weak or frail. Entire branches were sailing and swirling through the air, an accolade to Dorothy’s house. Garbage cans were lurching and letting loose their debris. Car alarms were going off everywhere in protest of the onslaught.
For a brief moment, I stood with my nose pressed to the glass, drinking in the sight. Then sense took over as one branch from the nearby large tree thudded into and then scratched eerily across my window panes. That was enough warning to back up just a few steps. The tree outside my window bowed reluctantly to the south-easterly bluster, its branches kissing the roof of the nearest car. The trunk near the ground is a good four feet in circumference and I could see it straining to hold its spot in the earth. The limbs shook and bent erratically, tossing out any loose twigs. As the winds battered all the trees, they bent and shook and swayed with the struggle and, still, remained standing.
As I stood there, watching the violence of nature, I felt chills coursing over my body. The hairs on the back of my neck and on my arms were standing on end. I could feel the energy that I use in my healing sessions pounding through the atmosphere mirrored in the strength of it in the storm. I was momentarily stunned that I have mastered the ability to harness the strength of the Universe and channel it for myself and others. I breathed deep when I realized how profoundly grateful I feel. I have chosen to step into who I really am and to honor that. With the energy of who I am and what I do so vividly displayed for me by the Universe, I felt awe. I also realized that sometimes being me feels as vast and as fierce as the storm I was witnessing.
I wanted more. I wanted to stand out in the courtyard feeling that wind bending me as I dance with it and it whips my hair into a frenzy about my head. Being that I had rollers in my hair and had only fifteen minutes to get ready, I acquiesced to the yearning to be outside, but limited myself to standing on my porch where the wind could buffet my body, but my hair remained fairly contained.
I opened the door, every sense assailed at the exact same moment. The air was loud; a chaotic myriad of sounds, one on top of the other – creaking limbs, struggling leaves, groaning trunks, thudding garbage cans, frantic wind chimes clanging in a non-melodious song, squonking car alarms, screeching branches against windows, flags billowing and snapping. The sight was stunningly alive and gray at the same time; objects seemed to shimmer with the intensity of the energy coursing through every possible space. The smell of decomposing brine mingled with every air molecule, as the storm swept in over the Great Salt Lake in the West. It filled my nose with acrid, salty tang and caused me to grimace and gag.
And then the rain, thunder and lightning began, shaking the earth with the insistent pounding. Gigantic drops were flying horizontally to crash into whatever surface they met. Thunder and lightning was crashing with predictable regularity. And I stood there. Face to the sky and hands held open, feeling the power course through me and the Universe around me. I was One with everything.
Five hours later, it is still raining. The thunder is a soft roll, the lightning is muted and the raindrops pelt the ground in waves of gentleness, followed by spurts of fury. I am imagining that, outside my bedroom window, there is a fairy wonderland and the sound I hear is a majestic waterfall. I stand at the bottom of the waterfall and the water washes me free of all my worries.
All that is left is the peace in knowing that I am One with Everything.
