Lessons From a Hurricane

This morning, as I sat in my well-worn leather recliner, with the Calico cat laying across my left arm, and my right had writing thoughts in my journal - all of this part of my morning ritual when I am not on the road, I came to a stopping point. I sat for a few moments longer; the pages of my journal still open, but the pen now resting on the open pages. The sun was now up, and the blueness of the sky had begun to show through the still dense green foliage of the trees. 
At first my reaction, albeit subtle, was that I was glad to see the blueness of the sky - a signal that the violent storms, and heavy rains of last night, had moved to other areas, or had simply exhausted themselves, elsewhere. 
But then my thoughts turned to recollections of a time, not long ago, when I drove to the Gulf Coast of Florida, to experience, first hand the “authenticity” of a hurricane - in this case, it was Hurricane Michael; one of the worst in recorded history.

As I sat watching the intensity - which many in its path would refer to as its “violence”, I was in awe of the power that nature can possess. But the greatest revelation, for me, came early the next morning, as I emerged from my hotel room many miles away, in Fair Hope, Alabama, where the hurricane ignored.
As I walked from my hotel room, to the hotel’s breakfast area - about a 40 yard walk, I was abruptly struck by the extremely clear blue of the sky, and the slightly warm, but very gentle breeze that passed, nearly constantly, across my body. But what struck me, far more profoundly, was the realization that followed: Less than 24 hours earlier I sat in my Ford Expedition, not quite 200 miles away, witnessing the fury of Hurricane Michael - and moreover, the destruction and, yes, the violence. And now the skies were inviting, and the air only but a slight breeze. It was if nothing had happened the day before.

Then, later that morning, I had driven to the outskirts of where the hurricane had passed through, the day before, and the skies were the same. As I headed back westward, to Pensacola, Florida, I witnessed dozens of people surfing - taking advantage of the larger waves left by the passing storms. And one again, the skies were crystal clear, and the air calm.
My profound realization, was this: Nature, unlike humans, has no agenda, or animosity. The hurricane was not angry. It was not out for vengeance of any kind. It was not intentionally destructive. It was simply nature reacting the changes in the environment, and rebalancing itself. It just so happened that people, and property were in its path.
In ages past, things like hurricanes, tornados, volcanos, and earthquakes were considered to be a lashing out of angry gods. Sacrifices would ensue, in the aftermath, in an attempt appease these gods, and to stave off another tantrum. But I found a valuable lesson in this experience - a lesson about perception. Nature unleashed a fury, as a process for rebalancing itself. It was not “lashing out” - it had no malicious intent. It was simply doing what was natural. And all of nature - the trees, the animals, etc. did not become angry with the weather; they did not respond with retaliation. They simply adapted and moved on.