As the rain blows forcefully through my back deck, causing wind chimes to crash and rattle noisily, and thunder rumbles in the distance, Mala coils up at my feet. She is deeply unnerved by thunderstorms. Not me, I love them!
Heavy droplets start to tap their light-hearted music on the tin roof, slowly at first, sporadic tap, tap, tapping, and soon building in thunderous volume to a sustained crescendo, soul-deep loud. To me, storms are profoundly moving.
This storm demonstrates great force and sustainability, bending trees to her will. But they are flexible, cooperative participants in the storm dance. They flex easily and return to their stately pose when the wind subsides. Then, join the dance again as the rain and wind increase their presence.
Nature employs many things, natural and manufactured, to create her music. I installed windchimes and tin roofs intentionally for just such an event. I am transported, infused with hope and even joy. The storm has a way of making me feel reborn. Fears and anxiety wash away. It is a natural attitude adjustment, one that I anticipate and welcome.
The storm draws me outside, arms outstretched, face uplifted, eyes closed, leaning into the full force of the glory I hope will engulf me. With my rain-soaked skin tingling, pulse racing, and bare feet planted in the wet soil, I feel deeply grounded in Mother Earth and filled with hope and promise. Deeply connected is how elephants feel when in their natural state, living as one with nature, giving to her and receiving her blessings.
The rain continues as the wind begins to subside, but it will soon taper off. I try to hold on to this ethereal feeling that vibrates deep in my being. Its exhilarating effect, like a reboot, is needed and sincerely appreciated.
The joy infused by the storm lingers as I head into the habitat to check on Bo, Tarra, and Mundi. I am always curious how they are affected by storms that they choose to remain in. The air is electric, filled with a fine mist that stings my face as I drive into the habitat.
Bo, Tarra, and Mundi are standing calmly, munching on the remainder of this morning’s produce. They show no fear response to the crack of stray thunder. Then, without an audible word, both Bo and Mundi head for the mountain of clay. Sharing a mutual joy, they spend the next twenty minutes slip-sliding, rolling in the rich mud, pushing and rubbing on each other as the storm erupts around them. They are undisturbed by the storm and find it as exhilarating as I do.
All is well.
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