When the Lights Go Out

I wish Chicken Little had been around last week to let my little corner of KY know that the sky was, in fact, falling!  In what seemed like the blink of an eye, rain, hail, and wind engulfed the city, churning about everything in sight, plucking trees from their roots, and bringing traffic to a standstill.  Other than labeling it a major meteorological event, no specific name has been given to whatever it was that blew through.  Fortunately, categorizing it correctly seems far less important a task than learning to appreciate what it left behind.The damage, though vast, varied, and a humbling reminder of Mother Nature’s strength, seemed par for the course for a storm of that proportion, as did losing power for several days.  Power outages, in my experience, are inconvenient on their own, but made that much more onerous when accompanied by insufferable humidity.  Thankfully, we were spared that problem and I discovered that I have much more brain bandwidth available when not comatose from  heat.  With the ability to focus came an awareness of how programmed we are by our habits and, subsequently, how much we’re apt to miss when we forget to pay attention.Case in point:  Walking into different rooms over the course of two days, I automatically - and without fail - motioned to turn on the lights every time.  Of course, nothing would happen and I’d think to myself: “Duh, Samantha, we don’t have power”.  Fast forward to not much later in the day and I’d repeat the same thing and have the same thought…and it wasn’t just with light switches.  I did it with the disposal and ice-maker, too.  Though I can’t deny feeling like a doofus, I also tapped into something far more productive.  It was along the lines of feeling grateful for good health after being sick; exercising better judgement after being reckless; and, in this situation, appreciating abundance after it was taken away.  It’s so easy - too easy - to take for granted what we grow accustomed to.  We begin to see, touch, feel, taste, and listen to something so much that our attention to it fades and its specialness begins to disappear.  The wonder of it is why we have to find ourselves standing in the dark before we begin to see the light.   Rather than waiting for a storm to help you see what’s right in front of you, take the time to look around and notice what and who is around you before the lights go out.  What or whom have you forgotten to appreciate?  What has gotten in the way? And, what can you do about it starting now?