The Wisdom in Mightiness
For the last two days, I have been aware of something grand, powerful, wild, and breathtakingly beautiful.
A storm.
Not just any storm, but a force so immense that it could tear through landscapes, move oceans, and shake the bones of the earth itself. And yet, in its divine mightiness, it allowed me to sit with it. To share a moment (or several). To listen.
There is something so incredibly precious about recognizing that consciousness does not belong to humans alone. That the trees, the wind, the mountains, the very pulse of the earth is alive. To not just admire nature, but to acknowledge it as something with its own awareness, wisdom, and essence.
I wonder if this is how Native American tribes and other indigenous peoples connect. Not as owners of the land but as kin, as equals, as ones who understand that every rock, river, bird, and storm is a being, a teacher, a presence with whom we can form a relationship.
And so, I connected.
I spoke to the storm. I shared stories. I sent it love, pure divine love.
I told it of Ferdinand the Bull, the gentle giant who, despite his strength, chose not to fight. He understood that true power is not in crushing, but in standing firm in one’s truth. In one’s highest intention. In elevating all rather than overpowering.
This magnificent storm listened.
I could feel its energy swirling, contemplating, and expanding. So, I offered it another lesson: the workings of a pressure cooker. Haha, I know!
I showed that pressure can be released without destruction and that intensity can be harnessed for creation rather than chaos.
And then, the storm did something I did not expect.
It laughed!!!
Not just any laugh, but a deep, full-belly, resounding laugh, like thunder rolling across the sky creating a harmonious melody. It’s the kind of laugh that shakes you awake and cracks open the very air around you. A laugh so rich in joy and peace that it’s contagious, impossible not to feel.
It laughed like Bob Marley, every bit as precious. And to make us both really feel comfortable, the storm started playing its favorite song… Buffalo Soldier.
A song of resilience. Of movement. Of serving something far greater than oneself.
That’s when I saw it: The storm was not just a force of destruction. It was a force of service. It has been working all along, aligned with Source, cleansing, shifting, and making space for the new.
I had thought I was teaching it. But all along, it was teaching me.
Today, as I sat with it once again, tears filled my eyes. I humbly thanked it for teaching me that I, too, am powerful. That mightiness can be wielded with wisdom. Recognizing consciousness in every single thing means understanding that we are never alone and that we are all one.
And even more than that, I thanked it for the mirror.
Because in seeking to guide another, to help another I was shown my own power.
I saw what happens when we intend for the highest good. When we recognize that all things… every storm, every tree, every gust of wind are alive with consciousness, that they meet us, reflect us, and can show us SOOOO MUCH.
In one final act of wisdom, the storm left me with a simple message: It gave me the ending scene to Pretty Woman.
"What’s your dream?"
Acknowledging that it understood why I had connected with it in the first place, and reminding me of the grandness of dreaming. Because isn’t that the essence of it all?
What’s your dream? As we are meant to intend and create everything we dream. And more importantly… what force within you are you ready to channel toward it?
If you have been looking to further develop your intuitive intelligence, your ability to connect with THE FORCE within you, with every thing around you… I am here to be your guide. Reach out. It is the most precious gift you will ever be able to gift yourself.
