If I were the type to interpret the weather...

It's bad out in southern New Hampshire right now.  Really, really bad.  Like, looks-like-we'll-have-floods-this-year bad.  I'm typing in front of the window and just occasionally glancing back at the screen, because I don't want to miss any of the big lightning strikes I could be watching. Obviously, the weather doesn't have any cosmic significance to the narrative of the lives of individuals or nations, but it's fun to think, sometimes, about how this kind of weather could be interpreted, falling as it is on the 4th of July, a significant date for US citizens.  You know, the same reason you get your palms read -- you just want to see what they say.

Mitt Romney's in New Hampshire today.  Are the gods trying to rain out his campaign by drenching it in thunderstorms?  Or maybe this is an affirmation.  Maybe to celebrate his presence, mother nature herself is joining in the fireworks display.

Maybe this is just the final, crushing middle finger of geography pointing out how much better than us Europe is doing today -- while we sit under a thunderstorm, feebly celebrating a two hundred year old victory against an oppressively financial foreign power, they announced their discovery of the Higgs Boson, and utterly trounced ACTA in the European Parliament.  The biggest victory we've got today is that one of our crazy lawyers decided to shut his mouth before he ruined his career trying to take money away from a bunch of charities.

I just got my first glimpse of a really solid, bright line of lightning.  I'm never that impressed with pictures of lightning (I tend to not be very impressed with pictures of nature, in general) but in person, it's hard not to be filled with a sense of awe when the sky goes purple and a streak of white light bisects the clouds, just for a second, in the kind of churning electrics that one might imagine striking the primordial ocean and knocking together the first self-replicating acids.

It's the kind of terrifying awe that, thousands of years ago, sparked the first gods in our anscestors' minds.  That kind of incomprehensible, dramatic capriciousness is hard to fathom, and for as long as humans have thought about things we've thought about how to explain why it happens.

Then, we figured it out.  In Switzerland, today, the next stage of the answer was presented at a press conference.  We know that lightning has no interest in us.  It's just a thing that happens, in a temporary effort to strive towards restoring a kind of balance that's hardly relevant to human narratives.

I'm sorry if this post is a bit rambling.  I wrote it while watching lightning streak around the sky, and wondering about what it might mean.  It was bound to get a little dramatic.