Cat, Storm, Sorrow

Just as the sun will always return to peek his beaming face through a crack in the celestial door, the storm, too, will return. The storm will think only of itself, darkening the mood and electrifying the air with static tension that draws tears to the faces of all things. Storming in and storming out, slamming doors and shouting—it's a frightening thing to be caught in the middle of such cosmic drama... And if we're not careful, this chaos in the sky might reach its twirling finger down to touch the chaos inside of ourselves, like a tornado completing its circuit and turning on something terrible in us, teaching us, in our souls and in our guts, to know only anger and wrath. So what is one to do when caught in the whipping winds and rains upon the road? Perhaps, we might learn a thing or two from the cat. It's not often you see a cat caught, surprised, in the rain. They don't look back to the sky, roaring like fools. They know that the deluge is not for them, and nobody calls them cowards for hiding where it's dry, curling up for a nap, knowing that the violence and madness above is only a passing expression of sadness, of sorrow, and has nothing to do with them.