You can dance in a hurricane. But only if you are standing in the eye. ~ Brandi Carlile
Dear Springhouse community,
This month, the metaphor I chose to speak to the mysteries of this life, and the power they have to ground us in our lives, is a hurricane.
A couple of years ago, I was diagnosed with a rare, but very treatable, cutaneous lymphoma. As I drove 40 minutes to and from the radiation center with my Mom, I listened to the song The Eye by Brandi Carlile many times. We would blast it, with the windows down, and feel a freedom that ran so much deeper than the situation we were in. The eye of the storm, so to speak; the storm for me being cancer.
Rewind my life back over 30 years to me living in Martha’s Vineyard. It was the summer of 1991 and I was getting ready to leave the island and head back to my final year at Michigan State. About a week before we left, Hurricane Bob roared across the island. Its effects were significant. Big trees uprooted. Power out for weeks. The place I worked was flooded completely. It was a mess.
But while the hurricane roared, I learned something powerful.
When the hurricane was approaching, we were all told to hunker down; and we did. I lived in a house with many other people. We all sat in the family room, listened to the radio, and waited. When it arrived, the hurricane sounded like a train. The windows shook and the winds howled. We all sat close to each other on the couches as it passed.
Then it was quiet. Completely quiet. The radio announcer told us not to be fooled, this was just the eye passing over us. We were not out of harm’s way yet. Somehow, we knew that we had some time in the eye before we were back in the storm again.
I was 21 and I decided to jump on my bike and ride up to the beach. I wanted to see what the ocean was doing; not the safest thing, but that’s what I did. I stepped out onto the sand and witnessed waves twenty feet high. I had never seen anything like it. And though the waves tossed and tumbled before me, the wind was calm as could be. It was strange to see the effects of the storm but not really feel them.
I stayed only moments, hopped back on my bike, and got back into my cozy cottage just in time before the winds started whipping once again.
I remember that stillness, that complete calm on the beach. I remember the waves and the whipping wind returning. It was incredible to me that I could be right in the center of the storm and experience that kind of peace. What a miracle.
There is a sustenance, a peace, a nourishment, even vitality at the center of all that lives. When the storm hits, metaphorically or literally, I can head toward the center of it and experience peace. I have tools that remind me of that– mentors whose trust and confidence shine through their eyes as I struggle, or the steady rhythm of my breath on the dance floor as I move through wild and sometimes demanding rhythms, questions that break through my inner illusions and lead me to a deeper truth about myself, or meditation in the midst of my boredom, distraction, and loneliness. These are ways that I choose to head in the direction of center, and to the peace I find there amidst the storm. It has taken a lot of support for me to remember that.
The eye of the hurricane did not stop the wild and thrashing waves. They existed together. The world today can feel like a hurricane–leaving many of us wondering where the eye is. People, places, and communities can remind us that though the winds of destruction are blowing strong, there is a calm center that exists within it.
I am grateful for all of the people and places that have been an example of center over all of these years. I am grateful for Springhouse that steadfastly seeks to be a place where adults and teens can practice this too.
As many of you know, we have our one and only fundraiser coming up. When you give, know that you are supporting a local example, an eye in the hurricane, that has ripple effects far beyond this place. And know that we intend to serve our mission with the ever-increasing compassion, clarity, creativity, and courage needed in these turbulent times.
Thank you in advance for your love, support, and energy. We are grateful.
Sincerely,
Jenny
