A Moment of Grace
Posted: Fri Jul 21, 2006 12:45 am
Hi all,
As some of you know, we've been labouring under an intense heat wave here for the past week or so (to the extent that I seriously considered cancelling all my appointments on Monday for fear that some of my clients would lose consciousness in the heat and humidity; the low- to mid-100's weather doesn't mix very well with a whole bunch of different medications). It's been insufferably hot all week. It's been unbelievably sticky all week. Just standing there, you could feel all your pores close right up and your body temperature rise--I actually got a few dizzy spells myself, this week.
An hour an a half ago, the wave broke. I was downstairs, in the basement (where it's relatively cool), watching a movie when I suddenly heard a clap of thunder. I put my nose against the tiny ground-level window and saw fat raindrops falling on the street. I stopped the film and went upstairs to the backyard patio doors in the kitchen. I slid the screen door open and walked out onto the back porch; lightning was flashing all around--one bolt after another after another after another. Ceaseless rumbling and crashing in the sky. It lasted for close to an hour. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. I saw the most amazingly intricate bolts of lightning arcing through the clouds or crashing so close by that there was literally no time lag between strike and thunder.
The rain hissed as though every drop were being fired straight down from a billion naildrivers in the sky. I took off my shirt and walked out, barefoot, wearing only my jeans, into the middle of the yard and let myself be soaked (within a mere second or two, I might add). Oh, blessed, blessed relief! The only thing that drove me back to the relative shelter of the porch was the fact that I could no longer keep my eyes open against the rain, which prevented me from enjoying the show. Dripping wet, I leaned against the corner post and watched. I saw bolts of lightning the likes of which I'm sure it'll never again be given to me to see. And, then, it happened. A moment of grace. I realized--deep, deep down in my soul (for what is only the second time in my life)--that everything was relative. Compared to this, gender identity foibles were trifling issues. Men. Women. It didn't matter. Not even the human species in its entirety could hold a candle against the fire I was seeing in the sky and the waters that came flooding with it, at this moment in time, this moment in my life.
A moment of grace.
I feel fortunate right now to be the kind of person who actually pays attention to this kind of thing. It sort of sets things right in my head when I become too much involved with myself or with the mundane world of human preoccupations. This, to me, is where I feel the innate power of our magical mystery tour.
When I come down from moments like these (because, really, to live only in those kinds of moments is to go stark, raving mad, I'm sure), I see the world with a fresh pair of eyes. The beauty and power I just now witnessed gets transferred to the rest of the world around me. And I notice how grateful I am to have you all in my life. You matter. All of you. Thunderstorm or no.
Love,
CJ
As some of you know, we've been labouring under an intense heat wave here for the past week or so (to the extent that I seriously considered cancelling all my appointments on Monday for fear that some of my clients would lose consciousness in the heat and humidity; the low- to mid-100's weather doesn't mix very well with a whole bunch of different medications). It's been insufferably hot all week. It's been unbelievably sticky all week. Just standing there, you could feel all your pores close right up and your body temperature rise--I actually got a few dizzy spells myself, this week.
An hour an a half ago, the wave broke. I was downstairs, in the basement (where it's relatively cool), watching a movie when I suddenly heard a clap of thunder. I put my nose against the tiny ground-level window and saw fat raindrops falling on the street. I stopped the film and went upstairs to the backyard patio doors in the kitchen. I slid the screen door open and walked out onto the back porch; lightning was flashing all around--one bolt after another after another after another. Ceaseless rumbling and crashing in the sky. It lasted for close to an hour. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. I saw the most amazingly intricate bolts of lightning arcing through the clouds or crashing so close by that there was literally no time lag between strike and thunder.
The rain hissed as though every drop were being fired straight down from a billion naildrivers in the sky. I took off my shirt and walked out, barefoot, wearing only my jeans, into the middle of the yard and let myself be soaked (within a mere second or two, I might add). Oh, blessed, blessed relief! The only thing that drove me back to the relative shelter of the porch was the fact that I could no longer keep my eyes open against the rain, which prevented me from enjoying the show. Dripping wet, I leaned against the corner post and watched. I saw bolts of lightning the likes of which I'm sure it'll never again be given to me to see. And, then, it happened. A moment of grace. I realized--deep, deep down in my soul (for what is only the second time in my life)--that everything was relative. Compared to this, gender identity foibles were trifling issues. Men. Women. It didn't matter. Not even the human species in its entirety could hold a candle against the fire I was seeing in the sky and the waters that came flooding with it, at this moment in time, this moment in my life.
A moment of grace.
I feel fortunate right now to be the kind of person who actually pays attention to this kind of thing. It sort of sets things right in my head when I become too much involved with myself or with the mundane world of human preoccupations. This, to me, is where I feel the innate power of our magical mystery tour.
When I come down from moments like these (because, really, to live only in those kinds of moments is to go stark, raving mad, I'm sure), I see the world with a fresh pair of eyes. The beauty and power I just now witnessed gets transferred to the rest of the world around me. And I notice how grateful I am to have you all in my life. You matter. All of you. Thunderstorm or no.
Love,
CJ