Since the first time I saw “The Wizard of Oz,” when I was but a wee lass, I have had fascinating nightmares about tornadoes.

Then, in college, I became one.

I didn’t realize until someone whom I greatly respected (and somewhat feared) told me I was a catalyst as we were demolishing his garage. That I made otherwise slow or unlikely things occur by my mere presence and influence.

It was a profound statement that stopped me in my tracks.

He was right, of course – I do.

Later that day, the garage toppled over on his thigh, trapping him. In a fit of panic, I picked up the garage and extricated him. Adrenaline is fun.

Since that time in my mid-twenties, I’ve rolled his words around in my head often, especially when I have stampeded, bull-in-a-china-shop style, through someone’s life and when that stampede has had Consequences for the other person.

Most recently, I’ve been thinking about having been a ravaging force in Mike’s life. Did any good come to him from our relationship, or was he just swept up in my current and dragged along until I released him from my grasp? Did he learn any valuable lessons (other than, “well, don’t marry her again?”) Was the net balance positive or negative? Was it worth it for him?

I’m fairly certain I don’t like the answers those questions.

And yet, the vortex must be fed. At times, with my own blood – usually with others’, sucking the life essences in, violently thrashing them around, and then flinging them away.

The nightmares, incidentally, continue. We can conjure all manner of symbolism for the tornadoes which rumble on the horizon and inevitably come for me: Change, chaos, the unknown, the uncontrollable, time, fear… you name it and I can mold it to fit.

It doesn’t really matter. What matters is whether I can overcome its destructive forces. Thus far:

Forces: ~ 4,786
Me: 3

To be entirely honest, though… I take some measure of pride in my catalytic nature. After all, I make shit happen. Quite often, that shit needs to get done.

I rather enjoy that part.

A bit of temperance would be nice. Some sort of conscious restraint, so as to not throw casual passers-by (or worse, people I truly care about) under my own personal bus.

In the meantime, stuff will get done, blood will spill, I will spin.

Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.