Inside seeking shelter on a very stormy day, I hear the wind howling… beckoning, come and see.

Looking out the window, great and mighty power, the surge before my eyes.

The wind, it whips and stirs. The waves, they’re in a frenzy, crashing down on all, in the way or not.

Rain, it’s driven sideways. I wonder if it minds.

Then, the birds. Something else. Just being birds, but more. Unphased by all the bother. Flying high, swooping low, drifting, diving, floating, gliding, in the winds that blow.

Beauty in the chaos. Stillness in the storm.

Trusting, not resisting.

All, it will be well.

Listening, not withdrawing, but drawing from within.

Knowing, sensing, feeling, it is—the One who is.

All, it is well.