After the Storm

In the third act of King Lear, Lear goes out into a storm and is blinded, physically and symbolically, by nature's power. He succumbs to it. It is here that he sees himself for who he really is, a bare, forked animal, without his accommodations to give him the status of king. After the storm, he experiences catharsis, and a new man is born.

I feel that now. The weather last night during two very difficult but necessary conversations picked up to blowing proportions. It is only fit that nature draw parallels between the different storms. This morning I woke up with the sky clear, the ground wet, my mother remarking that the wind around one a.m. woke her up, a wind I had heard as well, unable to sleep at that time, surrounded by a layer of peace in front of a layer of looming uncertainty. Now as I sit and write this, I feel the terror rise up in my chest, and my fate feels unwritten, given into your hands. I have faith.

I have faith that the outcome will be what you want. I have faith that there can be resolution. I have faith that we are about to talk and find peace. When you get off the bus. I want to wait for you with flowers. Are they to apologise for my blindness, for not seeing the preciousness of what you offered me? Are they to be grateful, that you will give me a chance to redeem myself, to show you that I care and that I am committed beyond what I was before. I am fragile at this point.

He told me not to hesitate.