“The devil whispered in my ear ‘You can’t withstand the storm.’
I whispered back, ‘Big talk from someone who lost their golden fiddle to some rando in Georgia.'”

A brief but loud storm blew through Portland this afternoon. It put the kibosh on my plans to head out and enjoy some beers and sandwiches this afternoon, but if I’m honest that’s alright. I’ve been pretty good with my spending lately, and I don’t want to mess it up over beer and sandwiches that I already know where to get separately. Besides, I’ve been treating myself well lately. A new weight vest for running, trying out a whiskey bar tucked away in a basement in Southeast, showing some of the guys in my run group a food pod they knew about but never visited, and fucking them up for life over a plate of chicken and fried potatoes. Next week, they say, will have to be the french fry truck. My body is ready. Indoctrinating new foodies and being a weird sort of “food concierge” for Portland is one of my favorite parts of going out, meeting people, and talking to strangers.

Tonight, though, I’m ready to take it easy, be still and quiet for a bit, and dive into my writing. I’m finally back to working on the book on training and mentorship that I’d shelved after getting a job that A. Required me to test everything I thought I knew about the topic and B. Eventually drained every speck of creative energy from my body like a copper heat sink. “I’m still learning!” I told myself, “I can’t finish the book yet!” My wife, ever the voice of reason, then pointed out that if it was true I couldn’t write a book until I had full, complete, and absolute knowledge on a subject, there would be no such thing as autobiographies.

Point taken. So I’m back to working on the book, warts and all. You can’t edit a blank page.

As I sat down to write, I looked to my left and saw a little brass incense burner with a tiny cone of sage incense inside. Em and I had received it years ago as part of one of an “itty bitty boxes” of whatever that are sold in bookstores and gift shops. This one was a sage space cleansing kit- a cone of incense, a burner, a fake leather cord to bind some actual sage if you got it, and a book about how to smudge. I didn’t want to appropriate Native American practice, and Judaism has plenty of notions of cleansing, sanctification, and the use of incense. I realized that with this nice new desk, a storm outside, a quiet mood, and a little whiskey on hand, this was the perfect time to “cleanse” the desk and workspace and dedicate it to the craft of writing.

The incense didn’t last terribly long and smelled cheap, but I lit it, said a prayer in Hebrew I half-made up, and here I am writing a blog post. The smell of incense, ozone, whiskey, and my wife making cashew chicken wafts through the room, and everything feels calm and right.

I don’t remember ever being scared of lightning or thunder as a kid. I didn’t always love being out in the rain and wind either. As I got older though, I realized that I really love storms. It’s not the same as being caught out in one, wet, cold, and in danger obviously, but if I can just stand and observe them- inside a house and looking out through a window, or even standing in the rain with a heavy oilskin duster and hat keeping me dry- its a feeling of peace and understanding I can’t always quite describe. It’s a reminder that even something as ubiquitously as it is as nature needs to let off steam every now and then. It reminds me that even the parts of myself that I don’t like- sorrow, anger, rage- have their role to play and are part of being human.

Just like storms, too, they pass, and hopefully, they leave more than downed branches and mess in their wake. That’s what emotional maturity is- recognizing the storms in yourself and having the self-knowledge to shut the windows, lock up the gate, and gather candles for if the power goes out. Emotional immaturity, then, is letting the damage go out of control and getting mad at others for the storms happening.

There’s a story I like to share about getting caught in a storm. Back when I was in college, I’d sometimes drive the four hours between Hartford and Atlantic City. Even on good days with little traffic, the drive could feel long and tedious and I’d always do it alone. One day, though, I got a late start and found myself driving up past New York City in the dark. A rainstorm blew in and it was an absolute soaker. The wind pushed my Jeep one way and the other, and my windshield wipers couldn’t move fast enough for me to see clearly.

It was getting late, I was nervous about driving and tired, so I pulled off the highway into an empty shopping center parking lot. “No good getting myself killed,” I thought to myself. “May as well just wait and see if it blows over. Shoot a text to the folks and my friends and wait.”

As the rain pounded the roof and window, I leaned my seat back and pulled out my old Boy Scout blanket from the back seat. Growing up taught me to always have a car blanket for impromptu naps, winter days, or for women in skirts and shorts to be comfortable in summer car seats. I wrapped up, set a timer on my phone, and proceeded to have the single best sleep of my life. “Nothing to be done. Just make yourself comfortable and wait.”

The rains past now and the sun is out. It’s going to be cooler today and might storm some more tonight. I hope it does. Sitting in my rocking chair with a book, a pipe and some whiskey, and listening to the rain pummel the patio feels like a great way to wind down before heading back into the kitchen the next day.

When storms come through- inside or out- the best thing to do is close the windows, bundle up warm, and watch. It’ll make everything feel cozier in the meantime, and reserve your energy for the cleanup after.

Stay Classy,