I'm feeling some disappointment that poor Hurricane Irene did not measure up to the magnitude of shock and awe that we all prepared for here in New York. What's that all about? I mean, instead of feeling grateful that my car, my house, my loved ones, and my person and possessions were not injured or damaged or even seriously put out, I'm somehow let down that Nature decided to reserve her full fury this time. We got off easy, and I feel cheated.
Do I really have a death wish, or a desire for disaster? I don't think so. Scrabbling through the rubble of a fallen roof to find my family would not really be preferable to sitting here in my normal comfort zone with the lights on and the power grid humming. What did I want, then?
Here it is: I want to be reminded that humans are not in charge, that Mother Earth can turn on us in a minute, that we need to respect forces that are beyond our control, and that our hold on all that is familiar and dear to us is tenuous and impermanent. I want to die a little death so that I can appreciate life a little better.
I wanted Irene to do that for me so I don't have to do it myself.