\nAnything you really, carefully examine begins to resemble everything else you have ever examined. What they have in common is you, your process of examination. There’s the famous haiku:\n<\/p>\n
\r\nFanning myself:\r\nI watch myself wanting:\r\nFan, move!<\/em>\r\n<\/pre>\n\nThis is what struck me most strongly as I began my examination of the hurricane that was to engulf the entire existence of the only world I had ever lived in. Everything around me began to take on a double meaning; the Halloween candy was wrapped in enigma and revelation.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nAn autumn leaf\r\nPlastered to the kitchen window,\r\nTrying to get dry.\r\n<\/pre>\n\nThinking I would have the long hurry-up go-nowhere of the storm to myself, I received an unexpected phone call from an old roommate. Her name is Sunny. Ironic, huh?\n<\/p>\n
\r\nEvacuation orders\r\nUnhouse thousands--\r\nSnowflakes on damp asphalt.\r\n \r\nLast minute hurricane call--\r\nNo message except to say\r\n\"Can I live with you?\"\r\n<\/pre>\n\nFinally, I stood staring out the window as the sun went down behind a swirl of misty grey cloud cover that had been hanging over the region for a few days already. We were all living under the overhang of Sandy’s big straw hat, and had been for some time.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nAn unexpected guest--\r\nBlown into my flying scarf--\r\nHello, nettle-leaf!\r\n \r\nRuminating before the storm,\r\nI find myself unavoidable:\r\nHurry up, Sandy!<\/em>\r\n \r\nPre-hurricane trees--\r\nShadows enlarge and blur--\r\nWhich way will they fall?\r\n<\/pre>\n\nThat night, my friend moved in her cats and about 16 gallons of Evian “emergency water.” I kept waking up to scribble this or that down irritably, look out the windy window, and then pull the covers back over my head.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nRain driven in under the sill--\r\nHow the drops of water\r\nStay wet!\r\n<\/pre>\n\nJust as I was putting a towel alongside the leaking window, something in the headlights of my evacked friend’s old Pontiac caught my eye–like a green flicker of wind–as she slipped her car into an open slot.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nA single grassblade\r\nBeing itself:\r\nA single grassblade.\r\n<\/pre>\n\nHer cats carried in and settled, we were ready for the onslaught of the storm. Mostly, we watched it swirling and nearing on the TV news. My old friend in the house (safe for the moment) played sudoku on her iPad.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nFeeling scared together,\r\nNASA pics show us\r\nOur smallness.\r\n \r\nAnxious in the storm,\r\nWe eat Chinese by candlelight\r\nAnd read our fortunes.\r\n<\/pre>\n\nI had had a few last minute “Are you ready for Sandy?” conversations with other folks in the complex a little earlier in the day. Later, I would get up periodically through the night to check on the storm’s progress.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nInterviewing neighbors--\r\nThey are cheerful, mostly,\r\nUnder wind-blown frowns.\r\n \r\nDistracted faces pass--\r\nNeighbors gone wandering\r\nFor cell service.\r\n \r\n* * * *\r\nAs night comes down,\r\nNot even my thoughts\r\nKeep pace.\r\n<\/pre>\n\nIn the darkness of that first night, I felt both cavalier and concerned. Time dilated in my mind, and my fingertips tingled, as if witchcraft could be conjured by their twiddling. But, of course, nothing happened. There was only the darkness of my thoughts, and the surprising softness of the air outside that I let in through windows pulled wide-open on one side of the apartment, since there was very little rain accompanying the black rush of air that came on cool as a kiss blown by a lonely Frost Giant.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nThe wet balcony at 3 a.m.\r\nFeels as narrow\r\nAs a footstool.\r\n \r\nThe railing shivers\r\nIn the driven rain\r\n--So cold!\r\n \r\nEven in this wind--\r\nThe skinny neighbor on his balcony\r\nLights up.\r\n<\/pre>\n\nOnce up, and wandering around my place in silent slippers, I followed my curiosity through several self-concerned revolutions of thought until I finally gave up on myself and wanted to see just what was going on in the whooshing world around me. I went down to the front door in my hand-sewn moccasins, my eyes as big and hungry as the bleak end of a vacuum hose–trying to suck in every available sight.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nIn the wet floodlit portico,\r\nA squirrel chewing seeds\r\nThoughtfully.\r\n \r\nKittens like the dark--\r\nWhat fun they have,\r\nAttacking my feet!\r\n \r\nIn the lightning flash--\r\nUnlit Ikea lamps\r\nSpawn shadows.\r\n \r\nIn this strange gale\r\nThe wind is searching\r\nFor the rain....\r\n \r\nRush rush rush....\r\nWither wither wither?<\/em>\r\n--The wind!\r\n \r\nSuch a gale!\r\nThe kite falls off its shelf\r\nDelightedly!\r\n<\/pre>\n\nThere’s a lightness to all things, rightly conceived. Not a lack of seriousness, so much as a spirit of un-seriousness–a playfulness in the ever-present immanence of joy just beneath the surface. Even our most hellacious heartaches are but the base notes of a vast symphony of being, whose melody delights. Would you rather be bound to the Catherine wheel of your misery, or be able to laugh at your fragility? Old age afflicts, but a whistle’s quickness lifts the heart forever.\n<\/p>\n
\r\nThe mind makes mistakes.\r\n--Just so.--<\/em>\r\nWe notice it.\r\n \r\nThe body decays--\r\nA face drawn in dough changes\r\nAs the dough rises.\r\n \r\nDeath, too, is part of this--\r\nA broken branch falls as easily\r\nAs a leaf.\r\n<\/pre>\n\nSomewhere in the dark, the wind revved itself up in a series of vicious gusts–variations on a theme–wailing and whining like a hand-cranked siren. What was the wind doing, moving so awfully fast in the big dark?\n<\/p>\n
\r\nHold on roof!\r\nThe sky is asking\r\nYou to dance!\r\n<\/pre>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Anything you really, carefully examine begins to resemble everything else you have ever examined. What they have in common is you, your process of examination. There’s the famous haiku: Fanning myself: I watch myself wanting: Fan, move! This is what struck me most strongly as I began my examination of the hurricane that was to […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1001002,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1728],"tags":[1765],"class_list":["post-2953","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-hurry-up-hurricane","tag-hurry-up-hurricane","category-1728-id","post-seq-1","post-parity-odd","meta-position-corners","fix"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2953","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1001002"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2953"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2953\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7734,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2953\/revisions\/7734"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2953"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2953"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gregglory.com\/blastpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2953"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}