On the Necessity of Bad Weather
Why learning someone else's barometer will ruin your own crops.
For years, I believed empathy meant walking outside in a downpour because someone in the next room was angry that it was Tuesday.
If their jaw set, I began inspecting my windows. If their voice flattened by half an octave, I went into the cellar to check the sandbags. It took thirty-four years to realize that when someone creates a low-pressure system, they are usually looking for someone else to carry the lightning rod.
The forest is not gentle, but at least the trees do not ask you to apologize for the wind.
When you stop anticipating other people's weather, you are left with the startling quiet of your own climate. It may be cold. It may be sparse. But it is the only ground where your own seed will take root.
“A barometer is personal equipment.”
“Notice who holds the rod.”