Storms happen.  Clouds build up, the air smells wet, energy seems to spark around the edges.  Soon the rain begins heavy plops, the sky darkens and the thunder and lightening pounce like a crouching bear grabbing at the salmon thrashing in the roar of the river in sheets of pounding water.  Anger screams out for a reaction.  Frustration slams on the table.  Eyes flash hateful spikes grabbing at blame and shame.

I sit now in the center.  I did not cause it.  I cannot control it.  Have I contributed to it?  Dunno.  Want to sit numb for a while and let the rolling grey sky have its way with the earth.  Where am I in this? 

I call upon the quiet, that the turbulence will subside and the murkiness settle.  Storm or silence, my center is true and changeless.