Today’s prompt in the Summer of the Pause is about they eye of the storm and what keeps us grounded when we encounter the many storms - both physical and perhaps metaphorical.
I’m reminded of this fantastic passage from Michael Ondaatje’s “the English Patient” that talks about wind. He describes the various kinds of desert winds, some small and some far-reaching enough to destroy entire armies. You can read this gorgeous passage here - it makes my hair stand on end every time.
Every year for as long as I can remember, there is a particularly forceful wind/rain storm that happens when the seasons change from summer to autumn. It’s never quite night when it does happen - always the early evening. It strips the trees of their leaves and scatters them on the ground as if to say “There. That’s the end of that season.” As if the gentle, constant waning of summer is not enough. It characteristically brings with it a lot of wind and I almost always know that it’s the one. I haven’t named that storm yet. Perhaps I should think of something to call it this year.
That’s the one thing I’ve learned about the storms in our lives. It’s important to name them. Often naming something gives it power. But it this case, whatever private storm you’re going through, if you name it, you take your agency back. Perhaps that’s why I love that passage by Ondaatje. Each storm has a name. To name means to know what you’re up against. Or to make friends with the thing you’re up against.
So while it’s possible that sometimes we brace ourselves for the incoming storm, it’s entirely possible too, to simply name it and be in it. It might be a bit unsettling but isn’t it also a thrill?