I’ve never been a fan of storms. As a child, it would wake me up from my night terrors, and it was like a reconfirmation of the big dark forces that are alive and present.
When I was 17 yo I almost died in a huge storm at a festival, where I was literally running for my life.
In a way,
being chronically ill now feels like a storm is living inside of me and using my body as a vessel to move through, like how a storm uses the compression of the air to create itself and move through territories.
hiding under my bed sheets or running away is not an option this time.
The storm’s energy is powerful. It can undo all that is. Everything that was solid, known, and relied upon is stripped away by the winds of fate.
I thought and was taught to believe I had more control over my body, mind and emotions than I grew up thinking I had. Like how the words I chose to speak to create my reality. How the food and love I give to my body, influences the way how I shine. And how more self-regulated I am in my emotions, the more situations I would be able to handle and the less trauma response induced reactions I would be giving.
In a way it is like this. Or at least that’s how far regular positive personal development goes.
But then the storms hit.
And it is a great equalizer. Because no matter our age, wealth, or wisdom… We can’t hide from it’s savage winds.
The storm lays bare the truth that there are forces larger than me. This understanding is a relief, but also a predicament of the power that requires my surrender.
Depths and understandings of power that lay in spiritual growth, more than I could ever learn about my ego or identity.
Now it’s coming up closer, I feel I must wait it out. If I try to fight the storm, I will lose.
So I’ll go within, for a moment. I’ll settle into the eye of the storm.
And when the ground becomes the sky and the sky becomes the center and then the center disappears… I’ll know I’m ready to come out again.
Gratitude to Kim Krans from The Wild Unknown for the literary inspiration in this writing.