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.

Unconscious programming makes us eager to believe our own lies
Words of appreciation can have power to connect us and heal us
Forgiveness has more power than political agenda in hateful tragedy
Who were you before someone told you who you were supposed to be?
Check out Aya Katz’s interview with me about art and culture
Against all rational choice of will, an old hunger in my heart returns
A culture which defines itself by consumption has lost its values
My future plans are solid, but intuition says prepare for change
When people identify with their masters, freedom is hard to accept