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2003-11-13 l 2:49 p.m.
Broken Weather

Broken Weather

By Diane Harvey
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Up all night with a storm: ample time for long thoughts to accompany the incessant drumbeat of a downpour. Sitting in the dark, looking out the window into the greater dark: the metaphor of darkness escapes abstraction and bites down hard. Our fragility is in the hands of the very world we so thoroughly scorn.

Tame electricity disappears and we say that the power is out. But far greater powers than our domesticated trickles are very much in evidence. The powers of nature are never out. Vast electrical phenomena stalk up and down the land, speaking in tongues of rolling thunder, inscribing fiery scrolls in strokes of lightning. There is meaning in all of this, for those who can read the writing on the Wailing Wall of the weather of the world.

Between the earth and the heavens, the natural energies of air and water and fire are delivering purification by violence: because, as primary agents of healing, they must. A poisoned body becomes feverish, and a feverish body tosses and turns restlessly, seeking relief and a condition of equilibrium. That modern man does not believe in the unified livingness of all things has no effect whatsoever on the underlying reality. The weather will increasingly toss and turn in high fevers of pollution, and take us along for a worldwide ride.

Scattered across the continents, we murmur our litanies of fervent prayers to the weather angels. But the wolf winds will howl, methodically scouring the heights and depths of our poor poisoned sea of air. Any sage will say what any innocent child instinctively knows: the basic elements react to human activities. Indeed, all things are intimately connected, and woven together in indissoluble unity. But modern man is much too self-important to comprehend the wonder, the imperative, and the penalties of ignoring subtle reality. He has peremptorily decided that mythologies are lies, though they represent truths simply too big to tell small. The Old Ones knew: nothing and no one is separate; nothing and no one is apart from the whole. The New Ones know this too. The ones in between have made a civilization of Hungry Ghosts: a No Mans Land of the half-alive, half-awake, and half-human.

The harmony of weather and seasons is broken because we have poisoned the springs of existence. Too many of us strut and preen and casually devour, as if exempt from the effects of all natural and spiritual law. To understand that how we live intimately interacts with elemental forces sheds revelatory light on the effects of mindless consumption, systemic degeneracy, and the horrifying cruelties of relentless war. However passionately some may cling to dire ignorance, nature and spirit care nothing for the twisted human constructs of failing civilizations. It is acute madness for human beings to persist in living as if separate and apart from the intricate balancing acts of the natural and spiritual worlds. The patterns of weather are broken because, to a dangerous extent, we are.

Yet we are not abandoned here to helplessness, cast adrift in elemental chaos and bereft of guidance. We have been given many effective recipes for solving our problems. In one notable example, we were offered a definitive demonstration of the power of spiritual love and truth in our relation to the elements of nature. Christ bid the turbulent waves to be still, and they were still, and He walked on the water.

He also said: "Greater things than I have done, ye will do."

And He meant what He said.

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Broken Weather - 2003-11-13
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