Sure, I can yell at a tornado and it will listen! Hmmm...
Last week was less than fun. Lots of different dramas emerged from various quadrants of my existence. I had some health stuff to handle;
my primary project at work is in all sorts of chaos; and most not-fun of all, someone chose to go full-on soap opera over something that I consider simple, logical, and all of those things that keep life in orderly balance.
And so there I was with my little umbrella...
I didn't yell at the tornadoes. I just dealt with them one at a time. And I didn't buy into the soap operaness of it all. I stayed present. I ignored the what-ifs, back thens, what's nexts, and the valiant attempts to engage me in some sort of battle. The tornadoes didn't go away, but they didn't touch down either. Because I stayed present, the tornadoes got in line.
A few months ago someone said something that stuck with me. (Or I read it. Or it was a talking cat in a dream. I don't remember.) The gist of it was this:
No matter what the weather, the sun is always there.Big fat clouds, thundershowers, or tornadoes may be obscuring it at the moment, but behind that dark gloom the sun is still present, bright as ever.
On Friday night, @ and I sat on the front porch to eat dinner. I looked up and floating over the house were dozens upon dozens of tiny colorful helium balloons making their way across a perfect blue sky. @ and I stood on the front lawn and watched them silently float toward the Santa Cruz Mountains. He decided they were going to see the sun set over the ocean.
I am grateful to whoever released those balloons at that moment from that place. Ever so grateful.
I know that of all the things that happened this week, the only moment I'll actually remember is standing on the lawn on a perfect summer evening watching those cheerful balloons. Nothing else matters.