Rushing in

Somehow the birds seem to sense when there is a storm forming on the horizon.  Their flight patterns change from smooth and flowing to erratic and haphazard.  They seem to whirl around in a vortex of confusion, riding solely on the currents of the incoming onslaught.  They stretch their wings as wide as possible.  They prepare.

The skies and seas change from grey to silver to a bluish, pearly, sterling.  I watch as all of this plays out before me.  I see the fury.  I see the beauty.  And there is value in all of it.  In all of it.

Yesterday, as I remained safely ensconced inside of our home, I observed as the sky darkened rapidly over the pier.  I thought about change.  I thought about transformation.  I thought about how the storm would rush in whether I wanted it to or not.  I thought about how life presents us with options and choices and paths to be taken, oceans to navigate, puzzles to unpuzzle.  But nothing is easy.  Nothing is easy.  I felt my own resistance curling, squeezing deeply within the core of my belly.  Fear?  Aversion?(The stomach flu?)  What is it that truly holds us back.  I wonder.  I wonder.  I struggle.

But like the birds, who eventually find their way out of the funnel of the storm, I breathe in, I let go, I spread my wings out further and farther than the discomfort seems to allow.  And I speak prayers of healing, of forgiveness, and of strength; out loud.  I allow them to get caught up in the whirlwind of the oncoming storm.  I squeeze my eyes shut.  I wait for the answers. And I know which is stronger.