I miss thunderstorms. I grew up in the midwest, in the Ohio River Valley, and there thunderstorms are a very common occurrence in the summer. Thunderstorms are, to me, a vivid and palpable example of the power of nature. I feel energized when I’m in one, and that energy comes from more than the increased presence of ozone in my lungs.
Thunderstorms are much rarer in Maine. We usually get one or two per year; the other day we had a doozy. Lightning hitting very closeby and an incredibly loud thunderclap right on top of the flash of light. We live at the top of Munjoy Hill in Portland, and it occurred to me that this thunderstorm didn’t quite sound the way I was used to hearing them. I thought for a moment and realized what I was hearing was the sound of the thunder echoing over the water on Casco Bay, finally making its way up the hill to my ears. Wow! It sounded amazing. I wish there was a way to capture a sound like that; even my best microphones would miss something if I tried to record that.
Very cool. Now I have yet another reason to love thunderstorms.
On another note, I feel like I’ve found a new kind of strength lately. It’s difficult to describe, but of all my “inner selves” who drive the Jim bus, I usually feel strongest when the “priest” is driving. When I say priest, I mean that part of me who is highly attuned to the energy flows around me, who can skillfully direct the energies at work in my life, in the service of both myself and the greater community. The priest is an edgewalker; his awareness is among the patterns behind what we see in our day-to-day existence.
One danger is that sometimes, the priest (like his ontological cousin, the shaman) often sees things that others don’t yet see. And when he tries to communicate these seeings to others, he is sometimes met with resistance. But if these seeings are true, then good, intelligent people will soon see them as well.
I was once told as a child, by a catholic nun, that I was going to make a wonderful priest when I grew up. Little did she know…