Most people like to hunker down and stay home when the storm winds howl. Truth be told, yesterday was the kind of day on which I, like many other people, would have liked nothing more than to curl up on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa and cuddle with someone I love. I've been hiking many times when I was glad to be leaving the canyon in advance of the storm, especially given the penchance in this region for flash floods. I've also been out and run in the storm before, and I found that I actually run faster when I run against the wind.
Yesterday morning, I was supposed to meet a friend early and go for a morning hike. After I had left my house, I received a text from him saying he felt it was a no-go. Over the past few years, I have had a lot of people stand me up for things, and so I decided to not let their choices impact my adventures, and so I drove undaunted to where I intended to go and simply chose a different path on which to hike, one with other people. Whereas usually I prefer to hike where other people exigent to my group are noticably absent, I thought it prescient to be proximal to people in case there was a problem.
The storm howled in and dumped rain and hail and snow on us as it broke against the mountain in the early cold of the day. You could see sheets of rain sweep in from the west as the winds angrily roared against the stalwart resilience of the mountains in its path. Periodically, its power spent, swaths would open in the clouds that allowed beams of light to pass through, as if God were illuminating a dark cupboard with a flashlight. By 9AM, these penetrations were at the right angle and concurrent with sufficient precipitation to produce rainbows. I retired to the visitor's center to dry off a bit and was able to get some amazing photographs of the rainbows against the backdrop of red sandstone cliffs.
Perhaps it was a bit cavalier. Perhaps my attitude was driven by my recent foray into the tale of The Count of Monte Cristo, in which Mondego's son, when taken by captors, tells them to do their worst. I reproduce the dramaticized version here:
When I arrived in the catacombs I watched as the criminals who tied Albert to a wall and threatened to cut off his finger and send it to his father as evidence of his abduction. The boys reply to all this was, "Do your worst." Life is a storm my young friend, you will bask in the sunlight one moment be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into the storm as you shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst for I will do mine. Then the Fates will know you as we know you as Albert Mondego, the man.
People frequently ask why bad things happen to them. Well, life is a storm. The storms rage. The storms don't really care if you're a good person. They were set in motion by things often ignorant of your existence. What makes you a man is how you respond to what happens to you. That's why we remember certain men. Newton and Luther challenged the church. Columbus, Clark, and Armstrong challenged the frontier. Washington, Henry, and More challenged the King. When the storms arise, as they will, sail into them, march into them, and stand against them. They will come anyway, no matter how far you may run or how much you may struggle, and the clouds of strife will rain down challenges upon you. They are not designed to wash you out. They are opportunities for you to decide where you will stand.
The story is told of the foolish man who built his house upon the sand. When the rains came, they washed out his home. Another wise man who built his house upon a rock kept his home when the same rains swept down and threatened it. Set your foundation somewhere firm, steadfast, and reliable, so that when the shafts in the whirlwind threaten they will have no power over you.
And then after the storm passes or as it breaks, you too may see rainbows in the light of a new day, a promise of good things to come.
Yesterday morning, I was supposed to meet a friend early and go for a morning hike. After I had left my house, I received a text from him saying he felt it was a no-go. Over the past few years, I have had a lot of people stand me up for things, and so I decided to not let their choices impact my adventures, and so I drove undaunted to where I intended to go and simply chose a different path on which to hike, one with other people. Whereas usually I prefer to hike where other people exigent to my group are noticably absent, I thought it prescient to be proximal to people in case there was a problem.
The storm howled in and dumped rain and hail and snow on us as it broke against the mountain in the early cold of the day. You could see sheets of rain sweep in from the west as the winds angrily roared against the stalwart resilience of the mountains in its path. Periodically, its power spent, swaths would open in the clouds that allowed beams of light to pass through, as if God were illuminating a dark cupboard with a flashlight. By 9AM, these penetrations were at the right angle and concurrent with sufficient precipitation to produce rainbows. I retired to the visitor's center to dry off a bit and was able to get some amazing photographs of the rainbows against the backdrop of red sandstone cliffs.
Perhaps it was a bit cavalier. Perhaps my attitude was driven by my recent foray into the tale of The Count of Monte Cristo, in which Mondego's son, when taken by captors, tells them to do their worst. I reproduce the dramaticized version here:
When I arrived in the catacombs I watched as the criminals who tied Albert to a wall and threatened to cut off his finger and send it to his father as evidence of his abduction. The boys reply to all this was, "Do your worst." Life is a storm my young friend, you will bask in the sunlight one moment be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into the storm as you shout as you did in Rome. Do your worst for I will do mine. Then the Fates will know you as we know you as Albert Mondego, the man.
People frequently ask why bad things happen to them. Well, life is a storm. The storms rage. The storms don't really care if you're a good person. They were set in motion by things often ignorant of your existence. What makes you a man is how you respond to what happens to you. That's why we remember certain men. Newton and Luther challenged the church. Columbus, Clark, and Armstrong challenged the frontier. Washington, Henry, and More challenged the King. When the storms arise, as they will, sail into them, march into them, and stand against them. They will come anyway, no matter how far you may run or how much you may struggle, and the clouds of strife will rain down challenges upon you. They are not designed to wash you out. They are opportunities for you to decide where you will stand.
The story is told of the foolish man who built his house upon the sand. When the rains came, they washed out his home. Another wise man who built his house upon a rock kept his home when the same rains swept down and threatened it. Set your foundation somewhere firm, steadfast, and reliable, so that when the shafts in the whirlwind threaten they will have no power over you.
And then after the storm passes or as it breaks, you too may see rainbows in the light of a new day, a promise of good things to come.
1 comment:
I always look at a rainbow as a sign that good things are waiting. And they are - -for you especially.
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