At night, when a storm is raging outside, we lay and listen. We try to sleep, but the kinetic energy in inclement weather usually prohibits rest. We hear snaps and cracks and flapping tarps, wondering what’s getting destroyed, or merely sounding as if.
Sometimes the worst destruction is a surprise, something you never heard. It’s the silent, slow letting down of a big tree freeing its roots from wet soil. Or the fence that blew over and smashed the roses. Not till dawn can you take inventory. Even then, what can you do but shake your tiny fist at mother nature and curse a god you don’t really believe in. We have no say when she decides to strike, and so we don’t take it personally. We simply rebuild stronger the next time, or demolish what was there so it can never be hurt again.
Sometimes we become so hardened and immune, we sleep right through the worst of it. The world has a temper tantrum, and we are safe in our dreams, blocking the reality of what we will wake to when the sun once again shines.
We take for granted we will be there to see the next sunrise and we take for granted it will.
We logic our way through the devastation around us, smiling as if we are fine. What is our alternative? What choice do we have? We can shake our heads at the other’s perceptions, discarding it as hitting them harder, or we can be thankful it didn’t hit us as hard as it did them. Either way, we are competing over even that, the destruction and anarchy and who fared better, when all along, we are all just roses next to a weak fence. ~Payne Hawthorne
The tall cliffs protect as the ocean beats and flings itself haphazardly against the rocks below. The pillows of fluffy white deceive and the tendrils of rainbows forecast the promise of a sunny day. The veil of sea mist paints the air with tiny frolicking faeries.
I stand tall and still, and soak in the majesty. The mist soaks my cheeks and bleeds into my hair. The roar of the sea quiets my soul.
Sometimes the silence inside awakens when you are most still.
The air is icy and bites. It feels good to be touched. My skin rejoices as my heart is filled. Don’t move, don’t allow distractions. Soak. Absorb. Marinate. Remain still.
All around you is anarchy; disobedient water obeys no master. Headlands jut as time erodes. One cannot contain forever. Crevices give way as water cleanses.
My heart beats and my lungs billow behind my ribs. I remain quiet. My pulse quickens as waves roll and surge. The ground beneath my feet vibrates as water insists, attempting to claim me, reaching ever skyward.
I close my eyes and listen. Amidst the chaos, there is intense peace, a belonging to something deeper and bigger. The lighthouse winks as I once again allow sight to overtake. The rainbow tendrils dance like ribbons of butterfly wings.
Photography by: Mark Scheffer