After a brief darkening of the sky, the rain came down suddenly. I made a mad dash out into the garden, and brought the washing in from the line. That taken care of, I stopped.

Ahhhhhhh. After a few really hot days here, this was such a welcome relief. The rain poured, and I stood outside in it, enjoying the natural shower, shivering slightly, but enjoying it.

BANG! KA-POW!

No, I hadn’t been transported into the Batman TV show, it was thunder. Startled, my muscles tensed, my neck shortened and shoulders hunched to bring my body into a more protective-defensive stance. I instinctively ducked for cover, rushing to the backdoor. It was enough to stand there, still outside, but with some shelter and the knowledge that with one step I’d be in the (perhaps illusory) safety of inside.

Lightning flashed, thunder boomed. I found myself genuinely scared, the forks of lightning were close, the difference between the sight and the sound minimal. I could not help but be humbled, made to feel insignificant, even, by the awesome power of nature.

The heavens poured down, the roof-tiles and house walls shuddered from the energy and sound of the lightning, surely only a matter of metres away rather than miles. Inside, I felt safer, and although frightened was also exhilerated by what was happening. I looked out of the window, watching the lightning flash all around. My cat, despite being all but deaf, could sure as hell hear this racket. As much as I wanted to witness this spectacular display, I comforted my cat instead. I may not be able to see the forks of lightning, I figured, but I can sure hear and feel what’s going on. I don’t think I can remember a time when my awareness has been so affected by the environment, it was everywhere and it was all I could think about, all I wanted to think about. This was no time for pretending it wasn’t happening. This was amazing.

The rain eased off, and the birds began singing. I had great compassion for the birds and the bugs outside, I had my house as shelter, and what did they have? But who do you suppose had the strongest experience? Thunder could still be heard in the distance, but the worst was over. The birds knew what to do better than I, or so I assume. When the storm passes, get out there and sing and celebrate at the earliest opportunity. That’s what they do.

Looking at the clouds afterwards, I saw clouds swirl and grow above me. As far as I saw it, it was two separate storms that hit, both crossing and joining overhead. I’ve never seen such cloud movement as I did afterwards, growing in seconds, bits swirling and joining themselves, it was as if the whole scene was compressed in time, what usually takes hours happening in seconds.

The sun came out, and things returned to a more peaceful way. The storm had truly passed, and now it was nothing more than a distant memory. This is the way all storms are, but when we are inside them, there is no denying the power of them. In those real moments, instinct takes over, the ego faced with such a greater power than itself in front of it.

It took me quite a while to relax afterwards. Even as I write this, my pulse is quickened, my breathing slightly more rapid and shallow than at rest. The storm shook things up, it cleared the air, and reminded me just how massive some powers are in the universe, and how small I am in comparison. Excited and afraid, I enjoyed myself immensely.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 13th, 2006 at 4:37 pm and is filed under Nature's Lessons, abarefootman. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.