(no subject)
I have just had an ecstatic moment. An ecstatic journey and series of time. For context's sake I was returning from therapy on campus and we'd spent some of our discussion on fears, namely the irrational. There were some, but walking back I can safely, exultantly, deliriously say that there is one thing I am not afraid of: STORMS.
It began as I walked out of the building. Huge and fast travelling storm clouds; black and thick and purple and blue they were. Beauties. As I walked along the sirens on campus started up and I got a little thrill in my stomach, in the pit of me, something I almost never feel. I was only the barest veneer of scared, but that only added to the heightened sense of glory and wonder. Like the vermouth to a god-tini. And as I walked the massive, towering, racing giants overtook me and sailed past me and then it began to rain. To borrow some from Mr. Dylan, it's was not like the rain we have these days, this was the flash-silver thick stuff, the heavy and wicked drops thick with silver, the warm and sometimes frigid drops rained down from the skin of your favorite lover. It was rain, by god, and it come not just from the sky but from the very earth itself, tumbling up, bellyful laughs of rain rising from the depths of the earth. And, as I walked along, like I did when I was young, I felt only the faintest, barest sense of fear. More than that, though, I felt alive, I felt happy, I felt alone but connected to the world. I could feel the rain coming down and the wind sweeping up and the clouds moving. I cannot hyperbolize enough how much an experience walking in thunderstorms is for me. I will admit, I may have this love affair with storms because of where I live, because tornadoes were not something I assosciated with storms, and by they time they got to us in D.C. the worst of the hurricane had usually been taken off. That said, the wind would come at my back and send everything hurtling over my shoulder and past my face sideways. It was a hell of a walking storm, because the wind didn't hit me in the eyes too much and the rain was just the right temperature to not chill me too badly. Glorious. I can tell you that, as I walked along 3rd street, the water on the sidewalk was flowing past me like a river, and came up to my ankles at times. I sang. I laughed. I may have jumped up and down. I walked past people hudling in the entrances of shops not even willing to brave the overhang of the arcade for fear of getting wet, I assume. As the thunder rolls in the distance, the purring of some great beast of infinite pleasure, I am, for the moment, relaxed. God bless storms.
It began as I walked out of the building. Huge and fast travelling storm clouds; black and thick and purple and blue they were. Beauties. As I walked along the sirens on campus started up and I got a little thrill in my stomach, in the pit of me, something I almost never feel. I was only the barest veneer of scared, but that only added to the heightened sense of glory and wonder. Like the vermouth to a god-tini. And as I walked the massive, towering, racing giants overtook me and sailed past me and then it began to rain. To borrow some from Mr. Dylan, it's was not like the rain we have these days, this was the flash-silver thick stuff, the heavy and wicked drops thick with silver, the warm and sometimes frigid drops rained down from the skin of your favorite lover. It was rain, by god, and it come not just from the sky but from the very earth itself, tumbling up, bellyful laughs of rain rising from the depths of the earth. And, as I walked along, like I did when I was young, I felt only the faintest, barest sense of fear. More than that, though, I felt alive, I felt happy, I felt alone but connected to the world. I could feel the rain coming down and the wind sweeping up and the clouds moving. I cannot hyperbolize enough how much an experience walking in thunderstorms is for me. I will admit, I may have this love affair with storms because of where I live, because tornadoes were not something I assosciated with storms, and by they time they got to us in D.C. the worst of the hurricane had usually been taken off. That said, the wind would come at my back and send everything hurtling over my shoulder and past my face sideways. It was a hell of a walking storm, because the wind didn't hit me in the eyes too much and the rain was just the right temperature to not chill me too badly. Glorious. I can tell you that, as I walked along 3rd street, the water on the sidewalk was flowing past me like a river, and came up to my ankles at times. I sang. I laughed. I may have jumped up and down. I walked past people hudling in the entrances of shops not even willing to brave the overhang of the arcade for fear of getting wet, I assume. As the thunder rolls in the distance, the purring of some great beast of infinite pleasure, I am, for the moment, relaxed. God bless storms.