Mammatus and Derechos

66  bar steep rise 29.68  0mph NW dew-point 64  Summer, muggy night

Waxing Crescent of the Thunder Moon

Another line of storms moved out of the north west, along I-94.  They hit us about 8 PM, the skies green like pale mashed peas.  Kate noticed some mammatus clouds and a lightning display in the east, already headed toward someone else.  There were tornado touchdowns, far away this time.  These storms are our tsunamis, our earthquakes, our hurricanes.

They come here because of our location, our spot on the globe.  They usually spawn from cool arctic air meeting humid Gulf of Mexico air drawn up by circulating lows.  Their paths have a general line, north west to south east, but the specific spots along the way that experience damage varies wildly.  A couple of storms ago a tornado touched down south of us about 2 miles.  A couple of years ago a tornado hit an eastern part of Andover.  That may have been the storm which hit us with hail, requiring new siding and a new roof.

If a tornado hits your house, it may as well have been a tsunami, a hurricane or an earthquake.  The damage will be considerable, your life in danger.  Straight line winds generated by wall clouds can and do reach ground speeds of 90 mph.  In the first four years after we bought this house we had two straight line winds that took out several large trees in our woods.

In certain instances these are derechos. The bow-shaped echoes that get meteorologists excited are distinguishing characteristics.  So are sustained straight lines above 58 mph, over a long front.  These are mostly a North American storm.

One Thunder Storm of a Word

88  bar steep fall 29.48  3mph SE dew-point 73   Summer, hot and sticky

Waxing Gibbous Thunder Moon

Passion.  A violent word.  One thunder storm of a word.  An Angel Falls and Victoria Falls of a word.  A 500 mile race, first-lap pile up in the first curve word.  

from the Latin, patior: to bear, support, undergo, suffer, endure

Latin words bad, anglo-saxon words good.  To bear.  To burn.  To bind.

Buddha cautions us against passion.  Desire.  It binds us to our weird.  Throws straps around our hands and feet, lashes us to the pillar of the material world.  To move toward nirvana, extinction, we must move away from passion.  Eliminate desire.  Exist in the moment.  The self, the passionate self confined to a moment, gone in an instance.

The world for now exists in me in two:  the passionate one who would bear burdens, burn with the fire of action, bound to this world for I love this world.

The calm one who watches.  Observes.  Lets things pass by.  Become old or yesterday.  Who lives right now.  Here typing, interactive with the screen and the keyboard.

These two have me locked in an inner dance, twisting up then down.  Around a helix shaped stairway down into the my soul and up into the Self.  Opening a gothic iron gate into heaven.  Wielding a hammer to crack apart the bonds of oppression and injustice.  A whirling, sitting dervish in my own body.