Then Many More

As a storm approaches, it can be peaceful
to count the drops of rain that first arrive.
Individual drops landing delicately on the window you look out from.
The first, the second, the third and fourth.
But in a vast unstoppable fury a storm arrives and counting drops,
though once calming, becomes impossible.

The same feeling occurred to me
at the top of a hill at Splendour in the grass,
a music festival held on the north coast of New South Wales.
Atop a sea of people, constantly flowing in and out of an Amphitheatre of thousands.
At first, you can count them.
Five, six, seven then eight people.
But quantifying the crowd in front of you quickly becomes futile.
Three turns into a hundred in a matter of meters.
Then thousands.
Comprehending it all feels overwhelming.

—

Why is listening to the rain calming? What if a hurricane is moments away.

If you were to count every flake in a snowstorm, every person in a crowd, every drop in the ocean... do you even feel better?
Are in control of it now?

"Night falls fast.
Today is in the past.
Blown from the dark hill hither to my door
Three flakes, then four
Arrive, then many more."

Not So Far as the Forest Edna St. Vincent Millay

When I first read those five lines that metaphor seeped in through the pores of my skin and has been with me ever since. At times as light as a thought on the back my mind, other times as heavy as a boulder on my chest. It's amazing how creative humans can be just to avoid saying three simple words;
I am anxious.

-Sam