Thunder

Superman needs the sun.

I need thunderstorms.

There is no other energy quite like it. I feel it in my soul even more than my body, and it energizes me like nothing else.

Thunder has many tones. A soft, distant rumble, like a mother’s strong voice from inside the womb. A sharp, powerful crack, like a verdict that reveals truth. And a dozen variations inbetween. All of which, to me, are like the loving voice of God.

Contrary to what might be more logical, when I hear thunder, no matter how far or close it is, I feel safe. (Yes, when it’s very close I may still jump. But then I’m fine.)

I came to terms long ago that if God wanted to strike me down with a bolt of lightning then there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. And that, perhaps ironically, gave me peace.

At least with lightning.

I’ve been struggling lately with faith, beliefs, base understandings I’ve always held. Thunder, though it comes from the sky, grounds me. Maybe I don’t have to have all the answers. It’s okay if right now I’m more full of questions and doubts than certainties. When I hear thunder, blessedly a near daily gift in this seasonal weather, I have an anchor. Something bigger than me. Something unknown, strong and powerful, yet gentle and soothing. Something intangible yet physical. Something spiritual.

Superman needs the sun to recharge.

I need thunder to remind me to keep going.

How do you sort out the thoughts?

I have a number of thoughts bouncing in my head, I’m too scared to write them down.

Why?

Because, they’re going to be messy. They’re going to need editing, and a lot of hardcore examining. Some, many probably, won’t make it to the blog. A lot of them probably don’t need to. And others aren’t going to get enough polishing before I put them before others. Because that’s not always possible. Life is messy and I’m still very much figuring out my way as I go. But I need to deal with them, and that’s going to be…a challenge.

Is it true? Is it mine to say? Is it helpful, insightful, or basically anything good? Is it going to make others angry (for example, by calling them out), and am I willing to deal with the consequences?

Do I want to be controversial?

No. No, not really. Never did.

I was always the “good girl” who burst into tears when I was told I had been mean or done something wrong. I burst into tears because the idea of me being mean to someone broke my little child heart.

Then I was questioned, mostly indirectly, for being manipulative.

Y’all, I didn’t know what to do with that, and it still affects me today. So I stay silent.

Outwardly, anyway.

To some.

To many.

…

But it doesn’t help to have all this unsorted noise in my head, either.