In the past, I've talked about how waiting for lightning to strike isn't enough.
As a child, my eyes would widen at the sight of lightning cleaving the night sky, a brilliant display of nature's untamed power. A spectacle, at once beautiful and destructive, seemingly dancing from cloud to cloud. Every now and then, it made contact with the earth, often leaving a telling sign that what is mesmerizing can sometimes be one's ruin.
The notion that lightning never strikes the same place twice is a myth I've come to question. Perhaps it's not about the probability of where it strikes but the readiness to receive its charge. I think of it more like "Why should I strike you, down there".
It's a curious thing though. 300-something million volts of pure energy, Nature's way of balancing the scales in one of the most violent displays of power wrapped in a stunning sight.
I know of someone like that. A bolt of lightning, one that holds the power to incinerate everything it touches.
But, still, I hold up a lightning rod like some crazed maniac hell-bent on capturing lightning in a bottle.
Maybe that's true. Or,
maybe I'm just trying to balance the scales.
Bring some order to the chaos.
Maybe I was just meant to be the lightning rod.
Maybe lightning doesn't strike the same spot twice.
Unless you're a lightning rod.
