, ,

When the storm settles, though destruction is vast and relentless, there is clarity in sight and the senses adjust with a sigh to the calm that once again grips the earth. No longer do trees fight the wind, no longer must houses battle for their right to occupy the land, and no longer will once animate objects seize to exert their own life force in giving in to the powers of nature.

An untrained eye might mistake nature to be less powerful when she halts the wind, when she holds back the rain, when she shakes not the ground. An illusion of powerlessness stems from what we perceive to be a lack of movement, a deficiency of vigor, a lack of chaos. Yet true strength lies within the realm of control. It is no exact science – control – but merely an awareness of the absolutes – the excesses and deficiencies – that tip the balance that secures life’s delicate proceedings. Unlike nature, humans have never been able to control themselves.

Which should not boggle the mind, having been programmed from birth to want beyond need. Nature does not want; she does not even need. When the storm settles, destruction was sufficient, the ego of the modern man is chipped, stripped, and swallowed, and the chance to view the world through the eyes of nature is regained.

When the storm settles, our eyes bleed from the sight of disorder, our heart burns for the loss of family, and our spines are tingling at the prospect of rebuilding. We mourn for what is gone, we cry at the work ahead, and we scream at the impotence of our command.

When tools are lost, objects previously rendered useless transform into godly devices; creating and maintaining, offering hope, solace, and excuses. Tears become fuel and sweat becomes oil.

When the storm settles, we wish we could keep what we had, have what we want to keep, and never have to say hello or goodbye. Greetings are what keep us apart; when no greetings are necessary we’re always together. When the storm settles, we have no choice but to face what is left and say goodbye.