there was a tornado watch. because i am pretty storm-averse, i was vigilant about checking whether it would become a tornado warning. i have things prepped for such moments and have put them into practice each time a warning has come our way.
some storms, though, are not forecasted with such specificity. these – the ones we can’t prep for – are the stuff of bootstraps. these are the ones that test our levels of fear, our anxieties, our outrage, our limits of patience. we try not to imagine the worst as it all starts to shake out. we struggle. sometimes we simply flail and tread water, wondering when it all might stop. we are surprised by the people around us – in both good and not-so-good ways.
we’ve all been through these storms. to be human is to encounter them. health, relationships, work – the storms come and test us, buffeting our attachment to things-staying-the-same, our cling to the season.
and after a bit of time – and some mussing of our lives – we emerge.
and the pilot light* is still there. it’s still lit. the job of pilot lights, it hasn’t dimmed nor gone out. it’s just simply waiting. a tiny flame. waiting. and burning. and waiting.
and then, eventually, after a great deal of time or a very little time, the new season begins.
“…for some things there are no wrong seasons. which is what i dream of for me.” (mary oliver – hurricane)
*****
*crediting mark with this superb expression – “the pilot light”
read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY
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