STORM OUTSIDE, PEACE INSIDE
A wild storm rages
outside. Birds are quiet. The wind through the trees stir up this
usually peaceful valley. The sunshine has subsided for a few days as
Autumn gives way to Winter, a time to go inward, physically and
emotionally.
This morning while I was out walking, before the wind and rain set in, I was thinking about how winter is always a productive time for me. We are all influenced seasonally in many ways. I usually manage to get a lot done work wise in Winter, ready to come out smiling in Spring.
Thankfully, as the storm's strength picks up outside, I am relieved to know there is no storm within me at this time. It is all peaceful, though it has happened in the past that the outside storm has been a good representation of whatever was going on inside of me at the time. It should be a sunny afternoon though if the weather was wishing to line up with my current mood today.
Instead I enjoy the contrast. It is only four thirty in the afternoon, but already almost dark outside. The wind howls through the trees and the rain pelts down on the tin roof. I am inside all snug, drinking chai tea and eating my home-made chocolate. (Please refer to my article Making Lists, Making Chocolate for the recipe if you would like. Yummo).
I can't help but think back to a very tumultuous time in my life. It was a huge healing time eventually but during the internal storms, it was pretty full-on. So I used to walk, for hours and hours. It was the only thing I could do with myself at the time. I was living in a city and would cross suburb after suburb, leaving home first thing in the morning, arriving home very weary late afternoon. Sometimes I would stop for a cuppa somewhere, or some rest in a park, but mostly I would just walk non-stop for seven or eight hours, sorting through my pain.
One time, I was visiting friends in another city, but was still in the midst of my stormy crisis. So I went out walking, to be by myself again. I ended up in the some of the city's gardens, high on a hill overlooking water. I saw and felt a storm brewing and from my vantage point, watched it come to me. I was too emotionally exhausted and totally drained to bother getting up. So I sat against a beautiful big gum tree and found myself sitting through the midst of the storm. It raged on for ages, rain and howling winds whipped at me from all angles. But I sat there, out of it in a way, numb with my own pain. It was an incredibly wild storm, but I figured no worse than what I was going through within.
Eventually it passed over. I stayed where I was, almost as if I hadn't even noticed the storm go by. I was the only person within my sight. Everyone else had obviously taken cover some time earlier. After a while, an amazing calm came through. The sun came out, the wind dropped away. Birds started singing again and everything sparkled from being washed clean. It took some time for people to start appearing in the gardens again, so I had the place to myself initially while all was glistening and shining. It was like a gift from heaven.
Whatever that storm did physically, is nothing to what it did for me emotionally. I stayed for while longer, slowly drying off in the warmth of the new sunshine.
Then I walked on and whatever I had taken into those gardens with me was somehow left behind forever. It was the shining of things washed clean, the sparkling of newness that I took out of there that day. Never have I forgotten that time, nor do I think I ever will.
So now as a storm stirs things up outside in the darkening afternoon, I smile and welcome it. The wind rushes through the branches of the beautiful, enormous Tallowwood tree down by the creek, leaving it swaying majestically adding to the orchestra of nature playing outside. (It reminds me of the move August Rush, hearing music in every little detail. A beautiful movie by the way, well worth seeing). The storm builds up like a symphony of highs and lows and lifts my heart. As the darkness sets in, the visual aspect of the storm is now gone and only sounds remain.
It whistles and curls around corners. Rain falls on the rooftop. The only other sound I hear is a determined frog near my window, obviously having a moment of bliss itself.
There will always be storms, some inside of us, some out. But despite the ferocity, they all bring the opportunity for things to be made new, for our emotions to resonate with the seasons, and for all to be washed clean again. What a beautiful world it is.
This morning while I was out walking, before the wind and rain set in, I was thinking about how winter is always a productive time for me. We are all influenced seasonally in many ways. I usually manage to get a lot done work wise in Winter, ready to come out smiling in Spring.
Thankfully, as the storm's strength picks up outside, I am relieved to know there is no storm within me at this time. It is all peaceful, though it has happened in the past that the outside storm has been a good representation of whatever was going on inside of me at the time. It should be a sunny afternoon though if the weather was wishing to line up with my current mood today.
Instead I enjoy the contrast. It is only four thirty in the afternoon, but already almost dark outside. The wind howls through the trees and the rain pelts down on the tin roof. I am inside all snug, drinking chai tea and eating my home-made chocolate. (Please refer to my article Making Lists, Making Chocolate for the recipe if you would like. Yummo).
I can't help but think back to a very tumultuous time in my life. It was a huge healing time eventually but during the internal storms, it was pretty full-on. So I used to walk, for hours and hours. It was the only thing I could do with myself at the time. I was living in a city and would cross suburb after suburb, leaving home first thing in the morning, arriving home very weary late afternoon. Sometimes I would stop for a cuppa somewhere, or some rest in a park, but mostly I would just walk non-stop for seven or eight hours, sorting through my pain.
One time, I was visiting friends in another city, but was still in the midst of my stormy crisis. So I went out walking, to be by myself again. I ended up in the some of the city's gardens, high on a hill overlooking water. I saw and felt a storm brewing and from my vantage point, watched it come to me. I was too emotionally exhausted and totally drained to bother getting up. So I sat against a beautiful big gum tree and found myself sitting through the midst of the storm. It raged on for ages, rain and howling winds whipped at me from all angles. But I sat there, out of it in a way, numb with my own pain. It was an incredibly wild storm, but I figured no worse than what I was going through within.
Eventually it passed over. I stayed where I was, almost as if I hadn't even noticed the storm go by. I was the only person within my sight. Everyone else had obviously taken cover some time earlier. After a while, an amazing calm came through. The sun came out, the wind dropped away. Birds started singing again and everything sparkled from being washed clean. It took some time for people to start appearing in the gardens again, so I had the place to myself initially while all was glistening and shining. It was like a gift from heaven.
Whatever that storm did physically, is nothing to what it did for me emotionally. I stayed for while longer, slowly drying off in the warmth of the new sunshine.
Then I walked on and whatever I had taken into those gardens with me was somehow left behind forever. It was the shining of things washed clean, the sparkling of newness that I took out of there that day. Never have I forgotten that time, nor do I think I ever will.
So now as a storm stirs things up outside in the darkening afternoon, I smile and welcome it. The wind rushes through the branches of the beautiful, enormous Tallowwood tree down by the creek, leaving it swaying majestically adding to the orchestra of nature playing outside. (It reminds me of the move August Rush, hearing music in every little detail. A beautiful movie by the way, well worth seeing). The storm builds up like a symphony of highs and lows and lifts my heart. As the darkness sets in, the visual aspect of the storm is now gone and only sounds remain.
It whistles and curls around corners. Rain falls on the rooftop. The only other sound I hear is a determined frog near my window, obviously having a moment of bliss itself.
There will always be storms, some inside of us, some out. But despite the ferocity, they all bring the opportunity for things to be made new, for our emotions to resonate with the seasons, and for all to be washed clean again. What a beautiful world it is.
