I woke up hours earlier than I anticipated due to a thunderous crash of energy and sound focused directly outside of my third-story window. The body and depth of the sound sent shivers screaming throughout my body, reverberating the inner walls of my skin and crippling my sense of self-awareness. The sound was violent and abrasive -- it was nearly disorienting and instilled in me a sense of shock and confusion. The room, for a fractional interval of time, was illuminated in a way that was much more beautiful and pure than the light given off by any incandescent. It was within this light, which glowed white for the minuscule amount of time of its presence, that I was made painfully aware of how empty the room had become.
As the room returned to calm, quiet, introspective night, I once again felt myself and the contact between my body and the ground upon which I so often slept. The pitter-patter of the heavy rain crashing against my bedroom window was a sound familiar and important. To the beat of this nature's drum I began to fall into repose. That being said of my body. My mind, however, remained active. It taunted me, I had the lingering sense that something awaited just beyond some type of fictitious horizon. It was something I felt I'd never quite catch hold of.
Another crash of lightning struck just violently enough to warrant alarm. At this point I was completely stimulated with no hope of returning to my state of rest. I stood up, feeling the cool oak of the wooden floor against my feet, stretched my arms above my head and walked over to the window. Just as I had finished my approach, an explosive strike of cobalt blue lit up the Douglas Fir directly adjacent my window and the tree began to burn. At this point, I was frightened. I was reasonably terrified. I watched as the tree, which had stood in that place for a number of generations, burned to a crisp. It was with an odd mix of emotions that I remained silent. I knew that my best bet was to wake somebody up and warn the rest of my family. Despite the logic sprinting throughout the little catacombs of my brain, I said nothing.
After a moment, I left my room, turned left and walked all the way to the end of the thin third-floor hallway. I came to a door leading down a staircase which I took to the bottom of the building before stepping out into the pouring rain. I walked back around the corner of the building towards the spot of the tree. The giant Doug Fir was steaming, the rain beating it violently into submission after several stressful moment of burning. Eventually, the fire gave out and what remained standing was the charred embers of beauty. Natural, tangible beauty. I felt hollow. I felt equally as hollow as I had earlier in the night, staring out of my high window at the weather outside.
I returned to my cold, dark room and stared out of my window back to the burned tree. I looked down onto the sleeping pallet on my floor and saw the wonderfully dark curls of hair bouncing lightly with the cool draft. It was in this moment of bliss that I forgot all about the sadness of the tree and went again to sleep.
Lately, I've been held within a juxtaposition of emotions regarding my standing in the world. Everything seems to be coming at me all at once, and I know I'm not alone in that sentiment. When I start to feel stranded, I think about stories such as this one and it highlights the silver lining of a given situation or emotion. I think that during transitionary times in our lives that it is important to reflect on both the good and the bad. It makes the body into an emotional rock, as it can feel so slight in composition compared to all the abnormalities in one's everyday life.
