You say that you love the rain, but you open your umbrella when it rains. You say that you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot when the sun shines. You say that you love the wind, but you close your windows when wind blows. This is why I am afraid; you say that you love me too. ~ Qyazzirah Syeikh Ariffin, I am Afraid
If you have never stood in the pouring rain commanding lightning, thrilled by the electric charge that makes the hairs on your arm stand up, joyously welcoming the mix of ether and ozone that shortens your breath and quickens your pulse—you cannot say you have ever loved a storm.
If you have never stood bare, arms out in grateful reception of the sun’s life-giving and life-taking energy until your skin burned and your sight dimmed and you became the raging fury and heat of a star—you cannot say you have ever loved the sun.
If you have never stood on the highest point you could find, exposed to the howling wind that threatened to carry you as it screamed its furious emotions in a voice so loud it deafens and numbs as it tears through your very soul—you cannot say you have ever loved the wind.
If you have never stood in complete and total awe and wonder of the one who receives and returns your affection and attention, and yes, your worship, with heart and soul open and inviting, ready to face the storm, willing to burn, able to withstand the wind with unfettered courage and faith and joy and gratitude, or have never been fierce enough to be as gentle as a warm rain on a cool, windless day, then you cannot say you have ever truly loved at all.
I will do all of this and more. So much more. My love is the blazing sun, the howling wind, the freezing blizzard, the devouring sands, the falling mountains, the raging sea, the gentle breeze, the cool pond, the warm rain, the spring day,