The viciousness of the rain, the power of the wind, the roar of the thunder, the flash of lightning. How strong and intimidating these things are doesn’t matter because all storms pass.
Just like a gentle autumn afternoon and a spectacular summer evening, they’re not eternal and ever-lasting, but ephemeral and temporary.
It doesn’t feel like that. We intuitively understand the fleeting nature of a beautiful sunrise. That it cannot last. That we must appreciate it now, while we have the chance. But storms? When we’re in the middle of one it feels like it’s never going to end.
Of course, I’m not talking literally of the weather. I’m talking of our feelings and emotions, which fluctuate just as much, if not more.
Happiness, like a beautiful day, is something that we know is temporary. But a storm of emotion? A poisonous coming together of frustration, anger and resentment? That feels permanent. That feels intense and real. So when you’re in it, you can’t see a way out. You can’t think past it because it’s so close and feels so raw. It smothers all thoughts of alternatives and escape.
But as the hours pass, so does the storm. The frustration fades. The anger recedes. The resentment resolves itself. And when it does, we can see clearly once again. The veil is lifted from our vision and we get the chance to determine where the storm came from and why it came. And knowing that, seeing that, gives us two opportunities: we can either prevent the next storm, or avoid it altogether.