LIGHTNING STRIKES: A STORY IN A SINGLE BOLT

From Accuweather.com

One night on a flight south, we flew by a cloud several thousand feet below--a charcoal gray cumulonimbus, intermixed with purple wisps; a massive mushroom containing numerous giant lightning bugs dancing in patterns amidst the water vapor. The scene has remained in tact years later, and it left me thinking why lightning exists--not how it works--and what can we learn, traditionally and philosophically, from such an ominous weather phenomenon?

In the seconds it took for me to write these words, lightning has struck over 100 times. In an effort to answer one of my above questions, I scoured Internet websites for the benefits of lightening, other than what we hear or read about clearing dead wood forests or providing aesthetically pleasing light shows. One accepted fact involves how lightning oxidizes nitrogen which via rain encourages plant growth. A functional reason, but there is more to explore.

Lightning jumps out at anyone interested in our solar system when we see how it occurs on other planets, e.g. Jupiter and Saturn. Jovian storms, sometimes as big as our moon in diameter or bigger, often appear in science news. Many of us are drawn into otherworldly majesty when watching such displays. Still, scientists continue searching for the unexplained, unknown truth: why lightning exists. The answers are few but the the legends, the theories abound.

More than any other reason, in my mind why we have lightning is that it has inspired civilizations since the beginning of man, isn't that enough of a reason? Mythological figures such as Zeus, the Greek god ruler of the gods and the Sky. Thor, the now omnipresent Norse god of Thunder who can contain the mighty energy of storms. Other legends include the Thunderbird (Native American legend among many tribes) or the Wari, the indigenous people of Venezuela who stated that fireflies gathered to pay homage to the Cataumbo Lightning storms, the most active in the world.

From legends to portrayals, centuries later Henri Rousseau painted Tiger in a Tropical Storm, illustrating that even the fiercest of predators in the wild could be startled by a lightning strike. A healthy respect for the power of nature. Rousseau knew of what he painted:

But these representations keep us at a comfortable distance. Let's get more "grounded" and examine lightning's real fury. Immerse yourself in a photographic essay, a picture showing the tendrilled power of a lightning strike:

Here a brilliant bolt off the Bahamas, via National Geographic, intensifies the electrical "magic" hitting the Caribbean with fury. According to Ocean Today, through NOAA: ". . .each spark can span five miles. . .it spreads out over the water, which acts as a conductor. It can hit boats. . .and electrocute fish that are near the surface of the water." Hence the warnings to not swim during a thunderstorm in any body of water. Though dangerous, the above photograph elicits a myriad of emotions when I examine it. I can see why earlier cultures saw lightning as a weapon sent down from the heavens.

I have also seen a bolt up close and too personal. In 1982, my friend and I on a trip around Europe stayed at a family friends' home in Saint-Cloud, France, outside Paris (the irony of the town's name tickles me). One night, we closed the sea green metal shutters, linked by a clasp, in our room while keeping the window, like a small version of French doors, open. Each of us were in our individual twin beds when during a sudden storm, a bolt hit the clasp, throwing open the shutters and for a split second appearing as if the bolt shot into our room. An experience great for writing fodder, as I see it today, but a major cause of insomnia for both my friend and I that night. Some would see the occurrence as a sign, an omen of pending doom. I hate to disappoint aspiring soothsayers, but nothing ominous happened to us during the remainder of the trip.

What does lightning mean to me years later? The nanoseconds flash before me as I grow older. When I hear the crack or see nature's exclamation point out my window, I remember the fear I had as a child which has morphed into awe.We could assign value to a lightning strike, as an arbiter of all that's dreadful: a casualty of war, the loss of a child, the eradication of a species. Or as a more direct symbol, the monstrous bolt may represent the crack created by an earthquake, the snap of a whip as it hit the bare skin of past slaves, or the scars left behind on children and women by ignorant men.

Conversely, a lightning strike can also portend every time an action is taken to help mankind, to save our natural world and bring healing where this is pain: an incision to correct a cleft lip, an illumination of natural and man-made wonders, a reminder that in an instant we, humankind, have untold reserves of power to change the course of our world's future, including stemming climate change. What a wonderful exclamation point that would be!

Tap your own power, leave your mark and participate in any way you can in the People's Climate March, Sunday, September 21 in NYC, or other cities across the country and around the world. For more information go to: People's Climate March