Serious Wind and Rain
This week, I have the privilege of living in a small studio apartment overlooking the ocean. Only a small, windy road and a few feet of scrub brush and sand separate me from the ocean. This is along a stretch of the Sanibel-Captiva Road, where the sand and water seem to come right up to the road, and you can see the expanse of water and sky for miles. It’s open and spacious, and on a sunny day, it sparkles with white sand and sea foam. I’ve always wanted to stay here.
This apartment is on the third floor and has a balcony overlooking this display of natural and wild beauty. A tropical storm passed through this week, bringing high winds and pelting rain. Going outside was impossible (well, very challenging); everyone battened down the hatches for three days. But when the rain stopped, and the wind died down to just a hat-holding level, I spent hours on this balcony gazing at the choppy water and feeling the wind. I generally don’t like wind, and I get bent out of shape when I experience its assault, especially in chilly New England. But here, even at the height of the howl, the temperatures hovered around 80 degrees.
Back a few nights ago, when the storm was at its full force, the wind was so loud that I had to sleep with earbuds and the voice of a dharma talk in my head to soften the wailing. It was humbling to experience the strength of nature while being safe, dry, and secure in this sturdy building.
Which is why I’m here in the first place – because of the fury of a storm that brought crippling devastation to this sanctuary of beauty almost two years ago – Hurricane Ian. It brought this island to its knees, bowing in prostration before its ferocity. This included the happy condo complex, where we have the good fortune to own a place. Twenty months after Ian came, I am finally here, staying in this place perched so close to the water to oversee repairs to our condo, four miles down the road. It took this long for the electricity, water, and essential building repairs throughout the complex to come to a point where it was our turn to utilize the construction crew that has been toiling away for these twenty months.
But, back to the wind and rain this week. Here’s what it taught me:
The natural beauty of this island could not be contained from springing back: the palm trees, flowering bushes, sandy beaches with buttonwoods and shells, gumbo-limbo trees, and mangroves.
Nature is a wild force (a force of nature?) that will do what it will, despite our human hubris that thinks or hopes we can control it. We cannot. Especially now.
But we can use human grit, hard work, and love of this land to help restore it so that it is once again available for us to marvel at.
We can feel the sorely needed urgency to roll back what we’ve done to set off nature’s fury.
I learned from the wind that although I find it unpleasant to hear and feel it, that did not deter me from being joyful in this place. Just being here is enough. I was content to watch the downpour and the choppy waves through my balcony door, safe inside, grateful.
Now that the rain has stopped I can take my beloved long walks along the beach, the warm water lapping at my ankles. The skies are mostly grey, but the air is warm (some might call it hot in the mid-80s), and I am in my happy place—and gratitude abounds.
Have you felt joy or gratitude even when the conditions around you were not what you expected, assumed, or hoped for? I’d love to hear about it!
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