Here are some of the pictures that have occupied my mental visual realm in the last few weeks:
- Rain. Rain pounding on a tin roof so hard that you can't hear the thunder pounding right on top of you. Rain filling the street, then the parking lot, then the little pond in the garden, then the whole garden, then seeping under the doors into the house. Rain leaking through the concrete walls. Rain that soaks you to the bone as you run from your car door into the local shop two metres away.
- Light. Light streaking through layers of clouds after aforementioned rain. Light reflecting on water to make a rainbow. Light shining on the sea as far as the eyes can see. Light going to bed for the night, but not before it makes one last statement of brilliance in the form of magenta-coloured clouds. Light streaming through curtains during an afternoon nap.
- Force. I drive in my car by former-house after former-house after former-house. Now I see houses with enormous cracks down the middle and piles of rubble. The other day we walked over a threshold that had split completely in half, in order to enter a corner shop. I'm told it took less than a minute for more than 100,000 houses to crash to the ground. I try to imagine what it was like standing on the street watching and feeling such enormous force, completely at its mercy.
Does the wildness of the rain, light and force preserve the world? I don't know. But it tells me there's a God and reminds me that we're at his mercy. It resets the clock on a crazy day, and sometimes it resets the clock on the life of an entire nation. Wildness is holy.