On storms…

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We were watching a movie. Harrison Ford’s character is a brilliant but caustic scientist who works tirelessly to develop a treatment that can save lives while he wrecks havoc on the living. Another one of his storms flashes on the screen: words rumble menacing and foul, eyes flash dark and accusing, lips tighten thin and grey. Defiance, arrogance, and anger boil and tumble, collide and explode, dripping acidic fallout on everyone nearby.

Just to the right of the TV the window frames another storm. Snippets of light dance a playful prelude to soft, distant murmurs. Anticipation builds as light intensifies, silhouetting dark, leafy trees and momentarily transforming deep grey clouds to brilliant shades of gold. The murmur crescendos into a breath-catching, heart-reverberating roar of celestial drum line, releasing torrents of sky-scrubbing rain.

Why is one storm so repulsive while the other is so exhilarating?

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