For the last two hours Rufus (my constant French Bulldog companion) and I have been in the midst of tornado warnings, thunderstorm warnings, lightning, high winds, and possible hail. As I watched the local meteorology team track the storm and give updates, "We now have confirmation of a tornado on the ground..." I could feel the not-so-subtle tap on the shoulder reminding us that we are, indeed, not in charge. Experiencing Nature's power, however, I was overcome by an odd sense of comfort. It made me feel connected and extremely present. Each lightning flash was a millisecond in time that I understood could be split into infinite slivers, an eternity of awe and humility in the wink of an eye. Thunder rumbling its way into my chest making me feel aware and expansive.
Now the storm has passed, it's silent, and I feel exhausted from the experience. That level of bombardment on the essence can be draining. But in that state I feel a lot has been stripped away and I'm left with a kind of kinship that vibrates in me deeply. It's a curious mutual respect that I'm still trying to process.
