Strike the Ground with Thunder and Lightning, Bring Forth the Gentle Spring by Carolyn Lee Boyd
Drought has dropped a mantle of lifelessness over the land where I live in New England. On every inch of dusty soil, thirsty mouths and desiccated roots cry for water under an ever-luminous blue sky. In my 34 years of living here, I have never experienced a drought where trees fall over because their roots have shriveled up, where rivers and brooks have stopped flowing, where farmers are unsure whether they can produce the food I eat every day.
Each morning I have anxiously searched for life-giving rain in the ghostly, wispy clouds. Finally, late summer thunder and lightning storms have appeared like a miraculous maelstrom gift from the cosmos Herself. I stand in the midst of the falling rain and booming clouds, in the soundbox of the planet’s drumming, and begin to vibrate with the energetic resonance of the furor playing on the planet’s surface.
In the mist of the downpour, I think of the Celtic lightning goddess Tlachtga. Her name means Earth Spear. She gave birth to triplets, then died, bestowing her power on the land. In ancient times, Ireland’s people gathered on the hill at Samhain to honor the sacred bonfire that evoked both light in the coming darkness and the promise of rebirth. Other goddess stories also speak of the connections between lightning and thunder, power, and renewal. Japan’s Naru-Kami made the land sacred by throwing lightning bolts. The Etruscan Uni tosses thunderbolts when angry, but eases childbirth when she is pleased while the Finnish thunder goddess Rauni incarnated in a rowan tree and brought forth plant life on Earth.
These goddesses who sanctify the land and renew life mirror the benefits of thunder and lightning storms on the Earth’s environment in yet another example of 21st century science echoing ancient knowledge. Thunderstorms cool and soothe the Earth’s atmosphere. They also keep Earth’s positive and negative charges in balance. Lightning frees up nitrogen which falls in the rain, combining with minerals to form nitrates, an essential fertilizer for plants. Electrical storms even help stop climate change and protect the ozone layer.
I feel the effects of the drought on the living beings around me in my bones. As the life force of the plants and animals ebbs, so does my own spirit. I began to ponder what these storm goddesses may tell us about spiritual droughts, those times when faith in life’s renewal seems to have abandoned us. This faith, this wellspring of spirit, is how we transform ourselves, each other, and the world. It is the foundation of hope that keeps us on our life paths each day.
At one time I thought that this wellspring of spirit was a component of myself within me; it was something that I “owned,” and was just waiting to be discovered. But the wisdom of these goddesses tells a different tale. In fact, like physical lightning and thunder, if you try to grab it and hoard it, it will dissipate, even wound. How many times have I felt a connection to the Earth and the essence of regeneration only to have it disappear in isolation from others with whom to celebrate it, then felt despair because of my loss? Only if I use this wellspring to heal the Earth, myself, and other beings will its gentle, sweet strength restore and revive me.
The symbol of lightning and thunder for this wellspring is especially apt because it is a flow, like electricity or the movement of air. It is most powerful when we receive it from someone else, amplify it, and pass it along. So often in women’s circles I am stunned by the energy that moves through the circle when women are speaking truth, or singing, or dancing together. It fills me with well being and I am energized for days. In fact, I remember one circle from 20 years ago where the leader said that we can all return to the energy of the circle any time after it is over, and I have found that to be true.
This wellspring connects us to the universal cycle of birth, death, and rebirth that is part of goddess traditions around the world. Lightning and thunder are essential to the Earth’s water cycle in which rain falls, evaporates, then comes back to the Earth. And, so, too, we need to remember that sometimes we need to let what no longer serves us pass away before we can be renewed. We have to be able to let go, to allow some things to evaporate from our lives, before we can experience rebirth.
Finally, once the storm has passed, the water that lightning and thunder have bestowed on the Earth flows gently into streams, brooks, and oceans. Sometimes we need to be mighty and fierce like the storms, telling the truth, advocating for change, being steadfast in our demands for the health of the Earth and those who live on Her. But sometimes a spring that bubbles up is as much a manifestation of this wellspring as the clamor and roar of the ferocious storm. Sometimes what is needed is a quiet touch or gentle speech. It is our task to know what is needed and channel that which is most beneficial.
Could it be that the goddesses of thunder and lightning are giving us an answer as to how we can change the course of climate change that is causing the global droughts and floods as well as our own spiritual droughts? Only by allowing ourselves to be refreshed occasionally from our spiritual wellsprings can we find the hope and energy to get down to the advocacy and everyday hard fieldwork needed to revive our planet and ourselves. I am reminded of those forests destroyed by fire that in a year or two are full of new saplings and wildflowers and see both the Earth’s fate and myself in them. In these times when droughts of the weather and of the soul can so easily overtake us, may the storms we need find us to revive again our wellsprings of spirit.
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