Ask people what they’re afraid of. Spiders? The dark? Heights? Or perhaps thunderstorms.
Rain pouring down, lighting crashing and thunder booming. The wind threatening to blow the roof off your head. You, lying under your blanket, terrified, even though you’re perfectly safe. There’s a very low chance of electricity frying your brains here, inside your house. Even outside in the open, you’d have to be pretty darn unfortunate to get hit by lighting. But still, you shiver on.
I think it’s the noise that frightens people. Not seeing the lighting first, only hearing the loud crash that rattles through the bones in your skull, shocking the iron in your veins. You still jump when you see it beforehand.
A flash of light. Hands flying up to cover your ears. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi. Boom.
Come on, dear, calm down. It’s three Mississippis away, it can’t hurt you. Think of it as a teacup falling. A tiny-bit-too-loud heartbeat.
But whose heart would roar like thunder? Only a spirit with enough friction, the constant action of hatred against passion, courage against cowardice, morals against desire. A soul so conflicted that it stirs up the electrolytes inside the chest and shocks the heart back to beating. Yes, they were dead before. Cold raindrops froze their entrails, and only danger could wake them again.
Reactive beings. An individual rubbing its feet against a carpet in an air-conditioned room and shocking itself with electrons transferred through touch. Or rather, parts of a collective violently exchanging electrons when there’s friction between them. Thunder heartbeats resound inside every ribcage, after all.
Great power wasted against ourselves. A force of a trillion watts directed at our own, shared body. If your right hand loathes your left eye you wouldn’t let it pluck it out, would you? Yet we’ve maimed ourselves to insensitivity, thinking our limbs belonged to another. The deal was working together, wasn’t it? Each part with a different function, making a common body grow, prosper, or at least thrive. We’ve surely carried out the the task impressively. Foolish, stubborn beings.
Darling, don’t be afraid of our thunder. Fear our spirits, for their friction results in lighting.
*****
Hello, humans. How's life going?
I wrote this little piece in the bus while I was on my way home. It was a flash of madness and creativity. Yeah. There's no explanation, really.
I've been really tired because, you know, IB. Life's been good. I got some new diagnoses to deal with (might open up about it someday). Oh, and I'm co-writing a book. So that's that. Expect it sometime.
Love,
Nan.
