Whitney's Story Index:


Ao final
07/13/2014

Son in the sky
07/12/2014

Recife
06/27/2014


Vida Dura
06/23/2014


Un lugar para mi
09/09/2011

Crossed the border
08/18/2011

Quiero mas tiempo!
07/31/2011


Yay for a shower!
07/19/2011

New coast for me!
07/15/2011

The ocean calls
07/09/2011


Tierra Dura
06/26/2011

Time to dry
06/24/2011


Rolling with it
06/09/2011

Viviendo la vida
04/27/2011











Day BA
02/24/2009








Bangkok, Thailand
09/13/2008




Day trip to Bowen
06/25/2008














Bouldering trip
03/17/2008

Beach volleyball!
03/14/2008



time for school
03/06/2008




Mailing address
02/27/2008


Townsville!
02/25/2008


The Last Supper
02/16/2008

Thick rain, freight train

21 de junio, Estacion de Biodiversidad, Tiputini

Today, I experienced the arrival of a storm in a freight train of senses.

I sat in a wooden canoe in the middle of a lake in the Amazon rain forest. In the distance, thunder mumbled and tumbled across the dense land. The sky got darker, the air got thicker. The storm made no attempts to sneak up on me, but rather used a range of pathways to indicate its arrival, in a persistent and relentless manner. It urged me to pay attention to it all, to each aspect of its existence.

In a calm, quiet lake I sat. An unmistakable hush started from far off, moving decisively closer, growing and building quickly into a clamor, a rushing train headed straight for me, through the trees and washing over the green land. I knew it was arriving. I heard it arriving. Then I saw it arriving, sliding across the water from the bank, prickling the surface of the lake as it pressed towards me.

Then I felt it. It hit my skin, it pattered off my arms, it moved in lapping waves around me, gentle yet, but sure. Then the wind. It galloped over the treetops, stirring up excited energy, and swept me up in it. It swiped across the thick drops splattered on my skin, sunk into my clothes, soaked into my hair. It blew my energy around, lashing at my previous sense of calm. The tumbling thunder moved closer, grew stronger, and urged my little boat of surrendered appreciation decisively from the center of the lake to the embrace of the bank.

This was not a dramatic flash of monsoonal expression of Power. This was Power built thick and heavy. Arrival was not simply the first step of Departure. Arrival was the arrival of a guest that stayed and settled into the corner of the couch with its feet kicked up. There wasn't a Departure, the storm simply slowly and imperceptibly faded away after time - a heavy mist snaking away to the heavens and leaving a weighty blanket sitting over everything.

It was a magical experience that colored my day... and it was, I believe, the thickest rainstorm I have ever been in.

Amazon photo album: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.864167170098.2372447.19700757&l=fbd26288a4



Posted by Whitney 06/26/2011, revised 06/26/2011 by Whitney