Confessions From a Weather Junkie

Instead of complaining about the elements, try accepting them and enjoying the cheap thrills they provide.

“Nature is so powerful, so strong. Capturing its essence is not easy-your work becomes a dance with light and the weather. It takes you to a place within yourself.” Annie Leibovitz

Gale force winds blasted a path through our forest of tall firs in the dark gray early dawn. Cones gusted down onto our metal roof, rat a tat tat, wake up! Large branches pruned by gale force winds speared the ground with ominous thuds.

A torrent of slanted rain unleashed itself in a mad fury, creating mini pools where the earth was too saturated to take in more. Land was shape shifting before my eyes. I finished the hot latte I was nursing and slipped on my running shoes.

My husband glanced over and saw me tightening the laces. Wait for it, I thought and there it came. “Are you going for a walk in this storm?” he asked incredulously.

Eyeball roll on my end. “Nothing different from every morning in the past 33 years,” I replied. With perfect timing, an impressively large branch sailed by, emphasizing my apparent lack of common sense.

Now his eyeballs took a turn. “Yeah, but this is a real storm!” he exclaimed. My eyeballs again. Our eyes get a lot of exercise. “Thank God! I don’t like those fake ones!” I declared. “If I don’t come back in two hours, call the raptors, they’ll know where to find me,” was my parting shot.

What was really happening here? I can tell you. I was venturing forth to feed my inner Wild Woman from her daily menu. Breakfast that morning began with water, water everywhere.

It pelted my raincoat hood, attempting to sneak through a crack in my armor. Slicking my wicking pants to my legs as rivulets sought entry into my shoes. Navigating ponds in the making, I listened to rushing water creating deeper ditches on both sides of the road.

A sudden, backside gust almost blew me into a ditch. Take that you brazen two legged. One who chooses to walk in the wicked storm. Ha!

I turned around and faced the blast. Rebel Teen suddenly erupted from her shallow grave. “Listen here, you chi robbing bully. You have met your match. And you better leave our tree hugging, solar panels alone!” Big threat from a puny human. Wind was not impressed, not at all.

I chugged up the hill pondering why that sassy little twit had unearthed herself just as RT spit out her adios, “I’ll never retire!” before sailing off into the thermals. What was this, an archetype hey day?

“She Who Will Not Be Tamed” made her way to the scene, providing a major distraction. I don’t mess with her. Ever. She’s addicted to her joy fix the elements provide and has a nasty habit of checking my Wild intake. Do I need another dose? Mama’s here. Open up.

She is my five year old whirling dervish self. Dancing barefoot on soft summer grass as heat lightning splits the magenta, desert sunset over Rattlesnake Ridge. She, who remained so very alive in the woman I became.

The one sitting next to a yak dung fire, close to 17,000 ft in altitude many moons later. Tibet, on the coldest, clearest night she had ever experienced on the roof of our world. She whose head dropped back in awe and wonder as the cosmos revealed their true light streaming from diamond clustered galaxies.

The one who effortlessly glided into the vastness of infinity astronauts speak of in space, while sipping Star Shine soup she harvested from the endless sky.

Weather has always created issues for humanity’s infrastructure. We place our homes on top of fault lines deep in the earth and then squawk in protest when a quake gulps them up.

We build close to water for that gorgeous view. Until the next hurricane sends devastating floods our way. We lament, moan and question why natural forces have chosen us as their prey.

Weather is changing radically. Unpredictable climate patterns are red flagging us and demonstrating the power of the elements. We are reduced to hopeless piles of mush when the grid shuts down, forcing us to bundle up in sleeping bags to stay warm.

The news encourages us to view ‘bad’ weather as a foe. Forecasters predict we will die from heat waves and freeze from punishing snows. What if we pushed this useless mentality aside and realized we can work with weather rather than rail against it?

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there really is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” John Ruskin

Let’s face it, we cannot restrain the elements. Wind, water, fire and earth follow their own designs. We are merely fragile human sticks, sailing downstream alongside other flotsam and jetsam.

We do so many ridiculous things in our desire to exert control and show those forces who’s boss. We dike, dam, move ground and set up buffers only to see them collapse before our eyes.

Our attitude about nature and her balancing ways could use a serious revamping. How do we go about a reformation in attitude?

By immersing ourselves in those very elements and surrendering to them. Possibly even admiring their capacity to shake us up and restructure our world.

I had to be dragged indoors as a kid. September was a horror as I squeezed my summer spread toes into new school shoes. I glanced out classroom windows, waiting hungrily for my biggest thrill of all — lightning! I self identified as an LOL, [lover of lightning] fiend early on. Bring it to me I begged.

Oh how I relished a big buzz on the way once I heard the rumble of thunder in the distance. My nervous system could barely contain the amped up circuits I began running. Batteries getting charged before the light show began.

I’ve had the privilege of being in the core of high altitude storm clouds, where weather is made, five times throughout the years. And surviving to tell the tale. They’ve been memorable and inspiring adventures, thanks to releasing my fear and entering the ride.

Two friends and I were traveling through Arizona on our way to Chiricauhua National Monument near Tucson. We checked in at the Ranger station on a bright, blue sky morning and studied a map of the sacred Native American territory.

The Ranger drove a small group of us to the top of the mountain and dropped us off. It was an 8 mile hike back down with plenty of side trails along the way. We were stoked and wanted to see them all as we set out with vigor. We marveled at cacti growing in the snow and species of plants we had never seen.

An hour later the sky turned from blue to black within ten minutes. A ‘freak’ storm had moved in and we were dead center in the making. Thunder boomed and lightning began striking the ground as we continued onward. One friend had been a back country Ranger at Mt. Rainier National Park and was also thrilled about this unexpected treat. She was the person trained to save lives in the wilderness.

The other was completely freaked out and periodically warned us we could die. “At least we’ll die happy!” we exclaimed, giving each other a high five. Snow began falling in blizzard dumps, accompanied by occasional rounds of hail. More lightning, these bolts merely feet away. Upon return, I planned to aim my finger at the ignition of our car to see if it could get the engine rolling.

Two of us were grinning like Cheshire cats meeting Alice on the trail. Our third buddy looked ashen and distraught until we finally spotted the station at dusk and dragged ourselves in like dripping dogs.

The poor Ranger looked so relieved by our appearance we wanted to give him a reassuring hug. “I was almost ready to set up a search and rescue for you three. The others came down hours ago and then this bizarre weather came through. I was scared you might be zapped by the lightning.”

“Oh, we almost were!” I proclaimed with zest. “That was one of the best parts of this amazing day!” Mr. Doom and Gloom Donny, as we had labeled him mid day, confided in the Ranger. “I’m never going hiking with these two madwomen again. They’re literally insane. We could’ve been killed and they were laughing their heads off the whole way down!”

Herein lies the dramatic difference in attitude we can have over natural forces we have no control over. Weather creates itself for very good reasons, many of them beyond our understanding . We can predict the elements to a certain degree. Then Mother Nature steps in and wallops us with a reminder of who’s boss. It’s not us, that’s for sure.

All of us have a Wild One within, even if we have never connected to or activated it. It’s there, at the center of our Being. It is a big part of the creative source we have sprung from.

It’s the pusher offering our fix. Open the door. Come on. I promise not to bite. Fingers crossed.

Rewilding ourselves means accepting the invitation to go out and adult play. It means stretching your comfort zone to include calculated risks. Take no chances, have no thrills.

Use me to your benefit, the elements proclaim. Tired from your work? My weather will reshape your mind if you only venture forth. Your scowl may turn to a grin before you know it.

Try flipping your conditioning. No more bracing yourself for dreaded weather. Dare testing out an opportunity for personal growth instead. Who knows, one day we might meet on the trail.

You’ll know who I am. The nature crazed, grinning fool with shiny eyes from her latest hit of joy. Grateful for each breath of air her lungs take in on another Wild day. Go for it!