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Weather Wise


It has been a winter of storms. Today is gray and rain falls. This has been the case for many days this winter. My mind says "Yes, good. California needs rain." My heart is telling another story. It is saying "Please. Give me a break. I want out." I gaze into the gray and remember what I have so often said before in this blog: everything teaches. I begin again: "Okay. I am listening. What do you have to teach me?"


The first thing that comes to mind is that all storms blow through. Things change. The gloom and gray and damp will have their day and the sunshine will return. Yes, I can learn from my teacher, the weather, about more gracefully embracing my own, inner weather with all its changes. There is something else here, however, if I listen in. I cannot control the weather. I cannot even predict the weather with much accuracy (meteorology never seems to be a very accurate or exact science).


Here it is then: when I get quiet and open myself to this storm rather than resisting it, I realize I am being taught a practical lesson in being present. There is no point in resisting what is. I cannot change it. End of story. Stephen Covey, in his book 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, counseled us to "carry our own weather." I think that is good advice, to a point, but I also think there is wisdom here, wisdom beyond choosing to put a good face on things and resisting complaint. This big world of ours does not rely on my preferences and moods in shaping itself. With each weather change, I have a new opportunity. I can use it as an excuse to feel miserable, or I can crack open the door to welcoming what the moment holds.


I can't change it. I am not sure I'd choose to change it if I could. Instead, I will welcome the weather as a master teacher. It reminds me, again and again, to receive what is in exactly the form it arrives. I don't need to impute meaning to it. I don't need to label it bad or good. Right now? The sky is gray and the mist is heavy. I open my hands and turn them palms up in my lap, a gesture that says I am open to both giving and receiving. This moment. Perfect moment. Never to be repeated moment.

 
 
 

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