Dawn came late this morning as the thunder clouds of the night finally furled into the dazed horizon. There are more on their way, but just for now we have a quiet sky creased with soft peach and cream clouds. And we have the breathlessness after heavy rain.
I imagine now people are going out to check their properties, or get their most important tasks done, before this storm's heart breaks and the rain returns. This is the authentic hour. I believe our essential selves show most not during thunder and fierce winds, but the silence between squalls - in the things we do to restore our little part of the world (or help others restore theirs). This is when our real priorities show. Not the urgencies of flood control or securing loose items, but those matters we settle first, like the comforting of children, checking in with relatives, procuring warmth for body and house. The repairs we make before anything else is done.
Of course, storms come in many different forms. Weather, moods, experiences, politics. Their impact is so often determined by the work we have attended in calmer hours.
This is hurricane season in my part of the world. Cyclone Debbie has washed Australia to the bone and now is dragging her last rains over us. Soon, I'm sure, another will come. We'll always have storms in April. But their force is determined by what we have done through the rest of the year to our atmosphere, our climate.
This is why I am particularly fond of womanly stories. They tend to understand the importance of lulls. Rather than focussing on people running around frantic in the fury, I want to see how they first create their vulnerability to that fury, and how they repair and strengthen themselves, their relationship, afterwards.
And now I must get up from my desk. This lull will soon pass, and I have work to do.