Throwing Stones in a Thunderstorm (from 4/12/2008)

God, i remember that night as if it were yesterday. So beautiful; it was one of those moments. I can’t believe it was 5 years ago. I did exactly whatyou will read: sat in the dark, feeling and writing. Nothing spectacular, really, just thoughts as i observed my greatest Muse. Only later did i decipher overlapping lines, across pages, of nearly illegible scrawl….:

Walking home at dusk while a spring thunderstorm is born. It is raining lightly, and each raindrop falls inescapably on my face like cold needles. Rarely have I ever felt so refreshed and cleansed. 
    
Later, when it was storming in earnest, I stepped out out into the darkness and forces of nature to smoke a cigarette, where the cool wind caressed me and held me in its embrace, yet did not touch me. I was warmed against the chill by a warmth coming from inside, completely independent of the weather around me. Now I have deigned to bring a chair, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter to scribble away blindly in my notebook and write purely from the heart. And to be a silly, stoned hippie and enjoy the look, sound, smell, and feel of this night. It smells so fresh. A sign of great powers long dormant reawakening. It is so inspiring. I am completely awed by the power of a simple storm, of nature, for the first time in far too long for such a beautiful, amazing occurrence. I stare around myself, stunned by the beauty. Thunder rocks through me, my entire body and being, and lightning streaks across my vision, blinding me. All the forces of life seem to envelope me. My mind is freed. Not only by substance, but by the simple act of writing in near darkness, not even looking at it, but writing directly from what my eyes are seeing and my heart is feeling, not caring or knowing how it will come from the tip of my pen. Again, for right now, this is enough, and it is all of me. 
    
Sitting here, it is altogether thrilling, comforting, and frightening to spectate on nature left to itself. The sounds of frogs, crickets, falling rain, rolling thunder, and the occasional crack of lightning is the most beautiful symphony I could hope to hear. We should try to spend more time secloistered with nature. It tames the mind to a state of inner tranquility. We should not let life stress, tire, and enslave us so much that we miss the beauty of the world around us. We need daily time to be at peace, to just be still and listen to the music of the earth and be soothed. Even in the turmoil of a thunderstorm there is a certain peace. All is as it should be. The world is waking up again, and it is a new beginning. 
    
I look on with such sadness as people shuffle hurriedly to their cars with heads ducked down against the rain and chill, ignorantly missing this beautiful display of nature of which we are fortunate enough to bear witness. They miss the simple pleasure of locating the stars and moon under a veil of clouds as the thunderstorm fades away. 
    
I feel so blessed to have had this experience tonight. I do feel an exquisite joy, but there is also an exquisite sorrow. As always, it seems that I have a masochist’s curse to always feel pleasure accompanied with pain. I wish I could share this experience with someone, anyone, who appreciates it and aches to take it all in the way I do. When I’m with them, I try to make other people see it and appreciate it the way I do, but they just don’t get it. They don’t feel the way I do. They look at exactly what I am, but they don’t see it, they don’t feel it. They look at it, then back to me with an inquiring eye and ask, “so?”
    
That breaks my heart.

Open your eyes!

 

Every morning when I wake up, I experience an exquisite joy.
~Salvador Dali

That is how I want to live my life…

[End]

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4 responses

  1. I read captivated how you wrote yourself into a storm, became part of it and matched its output of energy with your pen. I appreciate it all the more as one whose eyes are already open. Absolutely wonderful.

    1. I wish that more people would indulge their needs of simple wonder and stillness. I’m so saddened by our culture sometimes.

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