My writing has suffered recently, as have my guitar, my singing, and my knitting and crocheting.
Alternately, and perhaps related although perhaps not, my connection to the more spiritual side of things has also been suffering, likely due to a sharp increase in the amount of reality I’ve been dealing with for the past while. Things are getting better, they are looking up. I am reasonably satisfied with where I am right now.
While I sat alone and freezing in the tent on Saturday night, I could hear the wind outside approaching like a gigantic wall. Tara and Adam had gone to the washroom and I was alone in the darkness of our tent, listening to the storm approach. As I lay there waiting, the wind suddenly whipped around the tent, tearing at the seams and nearly lifting the fly right off. I could hear that same wind pulling at the trees that surrounded me, and wondered if one was going to fall, and if it did fall, would it land on me, alone and freezing in the tent. These are the things that pass through your mind when you are alone, in the dark, in a Pacific storm next to a beach with 15 foot waves crashing upon it.
I thought to myself that I could get up and run around in circles like a madwoman, in the hopes that if a tree fell it was less likely to hit me if I was moving. I came to the conclusion, however, that I would do best to just stay where I was, wrapped up tight in my sleeping bag against the cold, and if a tree fell and landed on my tent, thus crushing me, then that would be what was meant to be.
I think that moment was the only thing that made me able to sleep through the night as the storm raged on all around us, dumping rain, wind, sleet, and hail on our tent and threatening us with lightning and thunder the whole night through. I came to terms with the unlikely concept that a tree was going to kill me, and from that point on I was all right. It was very zen.
As you can probably tell, a tree did not fall on me.
I will edit photos tomorrow.