Now, more than ever, you must be an island. The wind and waves are foul. The warmth is a false blanket for shivering in the rain. Storms come and go, and even though the sun will shine again, it will be on debris.
I listen to the thunder and the crashing of waves intently. All I hear is noise. You can’t learn from wind and water fighting to be heard, all you ever get is wet and cold.
This is separate from chaos or anarchy. They have a purpose, a goal to attain. This storm lacks the elements to become nothing more than a nuisance. Nothing can become of noise without a coherent voice.
It’s not enough to stay indoors and create a drama from what unfolds behind sliding glass doors and vomit into the glow of a glass brain. You have to free your mind from that fish bowl.
Step away, find an anchor on high ground where the noise is distant. Find that place where you can see the storm for what it is. Stay above the fray and when you feel the spray of the crashing foam, move higher. Stay on firm ground.
As time passes and the storm subsides you can watch the different elements and how they recede or sweep away the debris. Once you know how the storm develops, devastates, and departs you’ll know better how to fortify your island.
From this point forward you won’t be fooled by soft breezes or passing clouds. You’ll see right through the surf into the churning froth underneath. And when the storm comes you’ll be prepared for the truth. It’s just weather. Blue skies and sunshine are alway glimmering above the tantrums of nature.
I am an island. I am is more than a statement. I am is a manifesto that I created the land I stand on and although forces beyond me may revolve around this earth, this place is mine and nothing can shake my resolve that truth is like the sun, ever present and undying even when it’s clouded by the nature of others.