The sheets of rain lash down, almost maniacal in their resolve to pound everything in the way.
The lightning flashes blindingly. For a split second, there is silence, followed by the booming thunder nearby.
The water pounds and pounds. The thunder rumbles. The lightning comes again.
The storm is hitting my windshield and the wipers struggle to move the water. Their back and forth motion is hypnotic — and I wonder whether the storm I feel and hear and fear is really outside — or if it’s inside my heart.
It’s dark and it’s loud and it’s gloomy. The storm outside the car threatens me physically, but the storm inside threatens something far deeper. Far more existential. It’s pounding on my very core again.

Hearing what your gut whispers might save you from wrong path
If we always beat ourselves up, how will we ever heal and grow?
Attaining excellence may require some time in painful mediocrity
Who’s the hero of Chick-fil-A wars? Rachel set an example for all of us
I’m not sure what’s left to say about politics, so here’s a picture of a cat
Should a rational person question orthodox assumptions on climate?
We’re all going to die, but what do you want to do before you die?