Writer - Author - Poet
Writer - Author - Poet


Meteorologists predicted a series of thunderstorms starting around midnight, but the storms did not roll in until just after sunrise with a series of intense booms and dazzling lightning strikes; followed by deep thunderclaps. Then, the rain fell in a steady pour, soaking everything. Little rivulets formed over dry earth patches. The moss, sopping up the moisture like a sponge, changed from its’ dry brown tinge to green in a matter of minutes. The skies became dark before another resonating thunderbolt and three or four flashes: the lightning alternating between a glowing blue-white and a lilac color.

After the storm passed, I went into town to do some errands. As I drove, a light mist covered the windshield with just enough moisture to warrant windshield wipers, and when I came to the intersection of where my country road meets the main thoroughfare, a rainbow appeared. The distinct rosy red intermingled with the orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet.

I’d read that rainbows have been symbols of optimism to cultures across the globe since the beginning of human history, connecting people as a sign of new beginnings or promise. In many cultures, it is seen as a representation of good luck, or that good news is on the way. Folklore suggests that seeing a rainbow is an affirmation of equality and peace. Irish legend states there are pots of gold to be found at the end of rainbows. Rainbows don’t last long, dispersing quickly. Therefore, for some, it reminds them of impermanence, that all things arise and pass away, and that our world is in a constant state of change.

I like them all but the one that sticks for me today is that after the chaos of a storm there is always light, there is always hope.

“There is peace even in the storm.” Vincent Van Gogh

How did you find solace this week?


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