Guy Reams (00:00.578)
This is day two thirty-five. I can see clearly now. I remember standing on the balcony of our home in western Colorado as a child. The night before a terrible storm had rolled through the Grand Valley. When I awoke and walked outside, the entire valley spread before me, crisp and clear. It was like seeing everything for the first time. Years later in my last semester of college, another storm pelted the campus for days.
When I walked out of a building the clouds had started to clear, and the sun broke through. It was blinding in brightness. Everything felt new. At that exact moment the campus radio DJ played Johnny Nash's voice over the loudspeaker. I can see clearly now the rain is gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Everyone on campus stopped and looked up. This was definitely a moment to remember.
After a storm the air often looks clear and crisp because the storm is temporarily cleaned and rearranged the atmosphere. Storms wa storms wash particles out of the air, blow away stale air, and often leave cooler, drier air behind. That combination makes everything look unusually clear. And so it is with life. The storm makes the sky clear not because the storm was pleasant, but because it removed what was clouding the air.
In life, troublesome times can do something similar. They shake loose things we were carrying carrying without realizing it, false priorities, shallow comforts, unhealthy attachments, pride, fear, distractions. Trouble can wash away illusion and leave behind truth. It may not make life perfect, but it can make your vision clearer. You begin to see what it is worth keeping, what needs healing, and what you no longer need to carry. I have learned this the hard way.
When things are going well, I carry too much. I say yes to everything. I chase things that do not matter. I convince myself that busyness means progress. Then something breaks. A project fails. A relationship ends. A plan falls apart. And in the aftermath, when the noise settled, I could see clearly for the first time in months. I can see what actually mattered. I can see what I had been avoiding. I could see what I needed to let go.
Guy Reams (02:19.032)
The storm did not give me new answers, it removed the clutter that was blocking the answers that I already had. This is not about celebrating hardship. Storm storms are not pleasant, they are disruptive, uncomfortable, and often painful. But they do something we cannot do on our own. They force a reset, they clear the air, they make visible what was hidden by the haze of routine, comfort, distraction. When the storm passes, you are left with clarity, not because you suddenly became wiser.
Because the things that were clouding your vision have been washed away. You can see the path forward, you can see what needs attention, you can see what you were holding on to that never really was yours to carry in the first place. Trouble can wash away illusion and leave behind the truth. I am not suggesting you seek out storms, I'm suggesting you pay attention when they come. When life disrupts your plans, when things fall apart, when the comfortable routine gets shaken, do not rush to rebuild everything exactly as it was.
Pause, look around, notice that the storm cleared away. Notice what is still standing. Notice what you can see now that you could not see before. The next time you walk out after a storm, literal or otherwise, take a moment to notice the clarity. Notice what feels different. Notice what you can see now. Then ask yourself what you want to keep in view and what you are ready to let the storm carry away.