Mean sky. Brutal rain. Wind asking for attention. Within a half hour chairs flew, people took cover, and the train rocked against the anger of Mother Nature. She had no sympathy on Friday, and refused to remain silent as we went about our lives. I sat watching objects fly about until the rain coated the windows and the wind got into a shoving match with the train. During my journey, things eased to a brooding mode until I made it home and then another tantrum began.
Mother Nature caused a zipper effect. I remained indoors watching her crack tree branches, dump water in large quantities and throw lightning through the sky. Such fury had me wonder if Zeus’s Aphrodite denied Mother Nature of love, because that’s what I was denied the next day. My cable was out, which consequently cut me off from the internet until early this morning. The internet is the only cheap mode of communication I have with the love of my life.
As time sauntered through a day of recovery, I felt zipped up tight unable to chat, check emails, or do anything else I rely on the internet which turns out to be plenty. The idea of not having television didn’t bother me, but my dependency on the internet is like a drunk to the bottle. I write, network, read, send and receive emails, and interact with people across the street or many miles away. I’ve built friendships with a click of a button and now Mother Nature pushes me indoors and zips me up from the world.
But sometimes a zipper effect isn’t so bad. It leads us to dialogue without technology, and allows us to be free for a moment from everything else in the world. We can forget about violence, oil spills, a politician’s snafu, a celebrity’s addiction, and focus on ‘us,’ so when we unzip, we have a better understanding of ourselves.
Mother Nature caused a zipper effect. I remained indoors watching her crack tree branches, dump water in large quantities and throw lightning through the sky. Such fury had me wonder if Zeus’s Aphrodite denied Mother Nature of love, because that’s what I was denied the next day. My cable was out, which consequently cut me off from the internet until early this morning. The internet is the only cheap mode of communication I have with the love of my life.
As time sauntered through a day of recovery, I felt zipped up tight unable to chat, check emails, or do anything else I rely on the internet which turns out to be plenty. The idea of not having television didn’t bother me, but my dependency on the internet is like a drunk to the bottle. I write, network, read, send and receive emails, and interact with people across the street or many miles away. I’ve built friendships with a click of a button and now Mother Nature pushes me indoors and zips me up from the world.
But sometimes a zipper effect isn’t so bad. It leads us to dialogue without technology, and allows us to be free for a moment from everything else in the world. We can forget about violence, oil spills, a politician’s snafu, a celebrity’s addiction, and focus on ‘us,’ so when we unzip, we have a better understanding of ourselves.
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