Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Adulation....and Lightening

I sit here alone.  The undulating blackness sweeping across the sky before me like angry waves on a celestial shore.  I've watched the neighbors dash for their doors, listened to slamming windows and calls for expedition, and all the while, sat still....my flesh tingling with anticipation.  My breathing quickens, keeping time with my heart as the wind strokes my cheek and tugs at my hair.

With the first clap of thunder, I smile.

The boys have left for a week with grandparents, my husband working late....I relish this, this dark solitude.  Hours before a natural dusk, the sky has dimmed, as if the day feared the slash of lightening's umbrage.  The ink, as I write, is lit by glaring flashes of white, neatness lost in the uncontrollable glee that races through my veins.

Storm lover.

I often wonder at the differences in the soul of the storm lovers and others.  As I sit here I know there are windows open all over my house, but I mind not the damp sills and puddled hardwood I will find when I retire.  Really, what harm comes from such?  Yet so many at this very moment are walling off Mother Nature behind glass and wood and shade--I cannot imagine this.  I delight in every aspect of the coming tempest--the mist that even now slicks my skin, the rumble of clashing masses, the pounding of aqueous fists upon the grass.  It's all I can do to stay here, the porch lights swaying in the gale, and not run laughing through the deluge.

Sometimes I think there are those of us born with turmoil in our blood and thus are kin to nature's wrath.  It's not something chosen and perhaps not inherited--neither of my sisters share this love of mine, yet I have vivid memories as a child, lying in the grass of a sunken meadow in the mountains, mesmerized by the lightening slashing into the rocky peaks surrounding me.  So close, the electricity danced across my arms like ethereal spiders.

Turbulence and I have shared quarters, lived years together.  Argued over silverware.  From jungles of twisted vines to ones of broken concrete and rust, my life has traversed more than expected.  Yet to ride the swell and crash of a life unquiet leaves one looking for rafts as often as glorying in the surging crest.  I have spent years learning to cloak the battles that rage within me; decisions that others find simple, I dissect.  Sleep ever evades me, leaving hours to fill.  My beliefs and values clamour to be heard over the din of commercialized pandemonium and noise that engulf.  Examination of the soul and choices made can be a bloody thing...enlightening, but tainted by that unmistakable ferrous tang.

Perhaps it is comfort I find, in the midst of heaven's assault.  There is no other moment when the world seems quite as volatile, quite as out of control--anyone's control--as in the depths of a raging storm.  However, with every breath drawn, we know this will pass.  Every blizzard ends, every tornado calms.  The devastation may be grave....but the sun will rise.  Perhaps this is why I feel my internal hurricane slip away on the coils of humid air tonight. 

My mind stills, soothed by the irrefutable evidence of endurance. 


mermaid gallery said...

Sometimes the weather echoes our wild side...the assertive nature of our souls....i love to be wild!..to argue and rant and feel the tensions of life....Many like to be quiet and calm...oh storms are uncomfortable!...exciting people live exciting lives...wherever they are.....they endure.....

Robbie Grey said...

I'm a sucker for a good storm. Though, I doubt I could articulate my appreciation of such half as well as yourself. Nicely done.

terlee said...

From one storm lover to another:
Quenching a powerful thirst in the downpour, dancing wild in the wind, shrieking madly at the lightning--I would recognize you anywhere.

(I was just thinking about you this afternoon. Good to know you're there...)

Anonymous said...

That wasn't rain, the cat had an accident over by the window and I forgot to tell you. Oppps. xo

Shea Goff said...

I want to frame this, put it on my porch so the next time a storm comes I can look at it, read it in the flashes of light and know I am not alone.

I love it when you write.

Shea Goff said...

Wait! And paint too. Is that your work?

Out on the prairie said...

I really enjoy a GOOD STORM. Working in the field staying in a tent,I have seen many. One year sirens from surrounding towns were going off with everyone running for shelter. I watched my tent move like it never should and eventually was laying by the door trying to hold it down on the ground.I had to go get a new one the next day.

Shelly said...

There is something about watching a storm that combusts life in me; makes me feel as majestic and powerful as what I see in the skies. Storm watching is good for the soul.

Wow, that was awkward said...

I dunno. My house was struck by lightening when I was a kid. Nobody woke up when it happened. It knocked down a chimney, traveled thru the ceiling, down a wall and zapped an old grundig. Walls were charred. No fire though, thank goodness. I've always been a bit of a storm pussy since then.

Mel Heth said...

When I was a kid we went to the same lake on the AZ/UT border every summer and the lightning storms were one of my favorite things about our trips. We'd watch them roll in, then scramble under awnings or into our RVs when they arrived. Afterward, the sand would be all mottled with raindrops and divots and it would smell so clean. I'm with you - nothing quite like a storm. Although I could never articulate it as beautifully as you did!

Mary said...

My hubby is the one who loves a good storm. Me, I would rather stay inside out of the cold, wet weather and watch from the relative safety of the window.

Anonymous said...

dear chantal: I've enjoyed reading
this post/prose so very much.
I love the awakening of a storm and dusk is my favorite time of
day when nature takes over, painting the sky the color of
gray and purple in love.

the latter part of your prose reminds me of a quote,
the soul is deep and waits only for God- I may have the quote a bit torn.

thank you for knowing.

Anonymous said...

Oh, I do love a good storm, too. Growing up, anytime it would look as if a storm were brewing, I'd take a book and a blanket and spread out on the swing on our front porch. I loved feeling the mist of the rain on my arms and feeling chilled where I wasn't covered with the blanket. Those are good memories. Thanks for reminding me.

The Loerzels said...

It's haunting how you get in my brain and write my thoughts. Unfortunately, I love a good storm too.

Chantel said...

Mermaid--well said! (my wild side has gotten me in trouble a time or two-lol)

Robbie--thank you, my friend, a good storm is the perfect ending to a hot summer day.

Terlee--lol! I adore you so! (and I'm here...soaking wet) xo

BamaTrav--lol Dude, you left it for ME to clean up?!

Shea--you are not alone; soul sisters, we two are. :)

Prairie--yikes! Now that was a storm!

Shelly--I love the word "combusts," it describes exactly what it feels like.

Brett--damn, that might make me feel a little differently too!

Mel--that sounds lovely, especially your description of the dimpled sand...and you're right, the air afterwards is delicious!

Paige--"painting the sky the color of gray and purple in love" is now one of my favorite lines... xo

Sarah Kate--my pleasure, and I love the idea of you on a swing with a book, the best way to spend an afternoon.

Marie--our hearts beat alike, you and I. :)

Brian Miller said...

i love storms....to stand in the face of their awesome power...i revel in it...and by the jobs i pick, i put myself in the storm there as well....maybe i am an adrenaline junkie in that regard you know...smiles....i tend to dissect decisions as well...they determine where we end up and deserve it...smiles....