The Storm That Came

Last week, I pulled an oracle card: the Storm. A card of transformation, movement, and clearing stagnant energies. At the time, I couldn’t fully connect with its message. My world had quieted after the passing of my father. I was settling into the silence, feeling the gentle rhythm of grief, like waves lapping softly on the shore. The idea of a storm seemed distant, something unrelated to my current state of being.

And yet, the storm came.

Not just in metaphor, but in the real world. A sudden, fierce force of nature, howling winds, relentless rain, and hailstones hammering the earth. The sky split open, and all I could hear was the storm itself, loud, all-consuming, drowning out every other sound. It reminded me of how emotions can rise unexpectedly, how inner storms can sweep through without warning, taking over everything in their wake.

There have been moments in my life when a storm erupted within me in the same way. The silence before, the energy building underneath, unseen but potent. And then, without warning, it breaks open. The grief, the rage, the transformation.

I tried to capture this feeling in a poem:

Didn’t know it would
All was so silent, quiet and calm
But underneath, it was brewing
Energy steadily building

So when it came
The storm rage unleashed
Catching me by surprise
Like sudden lightning on a clear day

My feelings turned inwards
Connected to this natural phenomenon
Storm as sacred transformation
Blazing a new trail into my depth

As sudden as she came she went
Left a world changed
Energy moved and turned
Marking a new step into the unknown

Perhaps that is the true gift of the storm: she doesn’t come to destroy, but to move, to shift, to create space for what comes next. A force of nature, raw and untamed, mirroring our own inner world. And when she finally passes, we find ourselves changed, our landscape altered, a new path revealed amidst the clearing.

Maybe we don’t always recognize the storms as gifts in the moment. But they come when they must, and they leave only when their work is done.

I am listening now. To the echoes of the storm. To the silence after. To what is waiting to be born in its wake.

Love, 

Cindy