Winding down. Counting down.

adrift

I scan the outside as I rinse out my cup. The mountains of snow in my backyard seem eerily still. The calm before the storm echoes a voice in my head. I look at the clock. The darkness will be upon us in a few hours. I feel a sense of foreboding. I check to see that we have batteries for the fireplace switch. I open the fridge and feel reassured by the stock of things inside. Our snack pantry is full. I mentally give a once-over of my linen shelf. We should have enough warm blankets I tell myself.

I note down our local power authority contacts and other pertinent information where I can find it easily. And I settle down to wait it out.

A feeling of resignation and acceptance sweeps over me. As I get back to my routine chores, it occurs to me that the fight or flight instinct seems natural. In the face of overwhelming odds, I calmly prepare to fight. There is no burning hope or fervent appeals to the divine to circumvent what is to happen.

It just is.

I cannot but help wonder why I do not do this in life. Just accept with grace and prepare to deal with the odds I have been dealt with. Why do I see-saw between hope and despair? Where is the equanimity when I want it most? Why does it take overwhelming odds for me to be accepting? I sense parallels between the storm that is to hit us tonight and the storm that is to hit our lives in a few months. Complete disruption of normalcy and finding new balance.

Perhaps this is nature’s way of reminding me to wind down and wait it out?

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