I awaken to a roar: like a freight train going by the window. And then I realize--Lake Superior is at it again! The beach that held us sitting on the edge, the quiet lapping of the little waves--taken over by fury!
On Friday, November 6th, there was no wind to speak of, and yet huge waves crashed onto the beach, over the breakwaters in town, over the second layer of breakwaters. We sat in the sun stuffing envelopes at the Folk School as the waves lept like geysers.
Someone told me there must be a storm somewhere else on Superior, and because
she has a smaller surface area than an ocean, those waves will be felt up here on the northern edge.
Just as the poet and essayist John Donne wrote that "no man is an island unto himself," Superior reminds us that a storm somewhere on this lake makes waves on other parts.
May that be true for us: may we be aware of the fact of our connectedness--in matters like health care reform, hunger, global climate change--so that the waves that crash are reminders of our oneness.