God I love a thunderstorm.
No, let me correct that – I love the build up to a thunderstorm; the roiling black clouds that build up on the horizon, the increasing pressure in the air, the heady scent of ozone and the wind as it starts gusting through my yard making the roses toss their heads; shaking off random petals and the trees to turn their leaves inside out as if they were opening up invisible umbrellas.
I’m in luck then, because ‘tis the season’ in my part of the country; the season when it seems that we have a thunderstorm nearly every day, and that is just fine by me! In fact, its times like this when I find myself heading out of doors where I can kick off my shoes and feel the answering energy coming up through the ground; an energy that is reflected in the bolts of lightning that light up the underside of those dark clouds on the horizon.
Today I was already out of doors; clipping dead heads off of the wild climbing roses that cover the side of my house when I noticed the light beginning to grow dim and the temperature begin to drop as the wind picked up and began whipping my hair into my face. As if on cue with the first gust of wind from nearly directly overhead I heard the cry of a hawk and immediately looked up, trying to zero in on its location.
Almost directly overhead; flying just beneath the building storm clouds (just where the storm clouds overlapped with the still clear sky) were a number of hawks – at least half a dozen of them. They were riding the clashing air currents in the most beautiful balletic movements; not one flapping of a wing, simply soaring; wings outstretched; from current to current; rising in the thermal updrafts before plunging and gliding and catching the next updraft. It literally took my breath away.
I stood there, pruning shears in hand, and found myself crying at the beauty of it; for the absolute freedom of the hawks and their unadulterated joy in riding the currents; crying for those of us who are continually flapping our wings – focused on our goals; determined to get somewhere – sometimes anywhere other than where we are – and in so doing fail to take advantage of the opportunities that we are being presented with right here and now; failing to appreciate beauty and mystery that surround us in every moment no matter where we find ourselves.
So many of us find ourselves confronted with an approaching storm; with imminent change; with situations that fall outside of our comfort zone and so, scared to death, we fight it; flapping our wings wildly against the insistent currents of change and updrafts of opportunity; determined that we are going to get to where we have decided to go instead of allowing the universe to move us in the direction that is best for our spiritual growth and evolution.
If only we would stop fighting; stop flapping; and simply let ourselves soar; riding the currents of change with pure, unadulterated joy; trusting that the storm front is there for a reason and that it will take us to where we need to go.