Jolted Awake

Sudden thunderclaps break the reverie, while opaque sheets of water pelt and soak and wash over everything. Startled into alertness, I begrudgingly acknowledge there is something about a storm that gets one's attention.
Remaining alert through the rhythms of life's pressures is an ebb and flow dynamic. I accept responsibility for my own stewardship therein. But storms come nonetheless. No respecter of the responsible are they that break in without warning or purpose. Always it is left to me to choose my response. Jolted awake, no longer in control, I remain a player and must act. And so I greet the storm. I call it by name, neither denying its power nor surrendering my own.
So, now that you have my attention...