Last night I watched the rain storm move across westward sky towards us; hurtling, sweeping, overtaking us without permission and with utter wild grace. I know what this feels like. To be overtaken by wild grace; by the unexpected thunder, by the way the rain washes everything away, making every memory new.
I know how it feels to stand at the screen and feel the ozone tear, feel the sky open, feel the way things will never be the same, and always are.
This is always how it feels, at the heart of things. Tempestuous, urgent, simple, bright. The rain moves through the valley obscuring the mountains. I lean into the vulnerability: learning to ask, to answer, to show up in the heat, to make things new.