Rambling in Wonderland

God I love a thunderstorm.

No, let me correct that - I love the build up to a thunderstorm; the roiling black clouds that build up on the horizon, the increasing pressure in the air, the heady scent of ozone and the wind as it starts gusting through my yard making the roses toss their heads; shaking off random petals and the trees to turn their leaves inside out as if they were opening up invisible umbrellas.

It's times like this when I find myself heading out of doors where I can kick off my shoes and feel the answering energy coming up through the ground; an energy that is reflected in the bolts of lightning that light up the underside of those dark clouds on the horizon.

Today I was already out of doors; clipping dead heads off of the wild climbing roses that cover the side of my house when I noticed the light begining to grow dim and the increase in the wind, and that's when I looked up.

Overhead, flying just beneath the building storm clouds (just where the storm clouds overlapped with the still clear sky) were a number of hawks that were riding the air currents in the most beautiful balletic movements; not one flapping of a wing, simply soaring from current to current; rising in the thermal updrafts before plunging and gliding and catching the next updraft. It literally took my breath away.

And I stood there, pruning shears in hand and found myself crying at the beauty of it; crying for those of us who are continually flapping our wings - focused on our goals; determined to get somewhere - someteimes anywhere other than where we are and in so doing fail to take advantage of the beauty and mystery that surround us in every moment no matter where we find ourselves instead of taking advantage of the updraft and simply letting ourselves soar.