Quenched

  “ when the rain washes you clean, you will know” 

-Fleetwood Mac.

There is nothing like getting soaked in torrents of a storms to put the mind at ease. I've always loved a good storm.  A child of the coast its been those grey water swells that have drawn me in. I often hear the question; are you a mountain person or a beach person? My only response is what type of beach are we talking about? Fine sandy shoals with warm turquoise waters? I'd rather not, some things are nice but fewer things are glorious. A stormy tide, that's glorious. Sitting in front of a passing squall you can hear the waves, you can smell the salt, you can feel the unique power that only the ocean offers. Some people need silence to sleep. Some people need silence to mediate. I need the roar of a fan to sleep and the chaos of a storm to mediate. When I sit in the perfect temperature bath I can feel the barrier between my skin and the water disappear. Their properties are so similar they feel one of the same. When I sit in the perfect storm I feel the white noise of  my mind getting lost in the swarm of fleeting droplets. I can feel my mind disappearing into the overflowing drains. The screams of the Poseidon's anger that's where the peace and quiet is.  

Maybe it's no surprise that nirvana means to quench the flame. For it's these flames of desires, furnaces of thought and embers of unease that can only be washed out by the heaviest of rains. It may not be everyone's sentiment but for me it's here where you can lose yourself at sea while finding yourself at home.