How quickly everything has changed in our realm–a beautiful day of ample sun, wind, and dryness! The storm is gone, at least for now. There is a strange calm in the air, a lightness which other places in Sandy’s path are not so fortunate to enjoy yet.
Somehow, the city of Boston was spared the wrath of Sandy. Today’s beautiful weather is a celebration, perhaps, but in places south of us, things continue to be bad. We can pray for friends and strangers who are struggling with the aftereffects of Sandy; we can send them “good vibes”; we can–all of it falls a bit short, is unequal to the calamity, all of it vulnerable to the winds of sentimentality and kitch.
King Lear’s tempest is gone, the world looks pacified again, but open to the capriciousness of things, to the suddenness of catastrophe and its departure. A beautiful days concludes, wraps itself around sunset. Other places the battles continue, the defeats and the gestures of solidarity. For now, that’s all. For as sure as I am of my own mutability, I know that the fury of nature will visit us again–fickle, violent, furious. What a combination!