Well, it’s been a quiet week here in Carpinteria, my hometown.

No, that’s not right. The week started out very noisy, with a massive – by local standards – thunderstorm on Monday night. Usually, if we get thunder and lightning here, it’s pretty wimpy. Such storms are small and brief, tending to pass along the Santa Barbara channel or over the coastal mountains. This one developed right over town. And it was angry about something.

I’ve never heard fiercer thunder, or seen more ardent lightning, in this valley or over our ambitious little patch of sea.  And of course, the power went out.

Thunder, October 18*

Cymbals and symbols, drums
and the heartbeats of small creatures passing
into their certain eternities by and by.
And nothing we can do about any of that.
Except to smile into the darkness
and leave each other searching for a light.
Shantih.

We should let the master handle it:

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places    
The shouting and the crying
Prison and place and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains    
He who was living is now dead    
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience.
… a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain.
… Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

            Shantih shantih shantih

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