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“I love you God, I love you. I love you God, I love you. I love you God, I love you . . .” Cheyenne repeated those words without a break in between. The young boy was breathing heavy; it was the fear. He glared out the large openings of the massive building. The multiple levels of concrete were not enough to keep out the terrifying sights and sounds. Thunder and lightning so loud and so bright the world around him shook with anxiety. His only chance was to huddle close to his mother and hope that it would be over soon. This storm, like the others before it, caused a flood of emotions for the boy; it was a rough ride. Fifteen minutes of eternity later, this storm’s time was up as it rode off into the sunset. The clouds were gone, but for how long? Moments like this were far too frequent for a boy growing up on the prairies. He couldn’t help it. Every summer brought new storms, bigger storms. The feeling Cheyenne would get when the ominous power of the nearly black storm clouds tumbled closer was something that always struck him with terror. As a child he was forced to cower beneath the land of living skies. Oppressed by the power and uncertainty of this land, Cheyenne lived with the hope of seeing a time when his fear of storms would be conquered.
Years later, Cheyenne stood paralyzed, watching the formation of a tornado, no more than 100 yards away. This moment caused his fear to climb to the peak of mount faintheartedness. Where would he go from here? As he peered out the window of a basement-less cabin, Cheyenne began to realize that he was in the midst of surviving his only true fear. It was not the thunder he feared, it was not the rain. It was the potential for something bigger; it was this – a tornado. Perhaps, if he could weather the storm just one last time, if he could persevere and outlive the violent beast, he may escape the mighty clutches of phobia.
As a young child an unfairly strong fear of storms had always bothered Cheyenne. He had developed resentment for the season that brought them; he hated summer. The terrifying memories of storms were recollected and reorganized every year. After time, this collection began to serve as a retrospect of all the storms he encountered, all the storms he survived. Analyzing these memories over and over helped Cheyenne become familiar with the extraordinary energy that powerfully, potent storms can exert. The not-so curious case of growing older allowed him to dissect and scrutinize the very aspects of storms that were most intimidating. He began to realize that when understood, fear is an emotion best controlled. He would learn to harness his fear of storms and use the fear in the same way it used him. He would use the fear to make himself stronger in the face of storms, just as the fear had used him to grow stronger so many times before.
Unpredictable weather in Saskatchewan is very common, perhaps even predictable – which is what scared Cheyenne the most. The instability of the hot and humid prairie atmosphere is far more reliable than the forecasters who predict it. It seems every night during the summer months storm watches and warnings are being given merely as a precautionary method. Some thunderstorms may generate frequent lightning, strong winds, large hail and possibly even tornados, these forecasters tell us. This all sounds very intimidating. To an eight-year-old boy, it was downright unsettling.
When Cheyenne heard these weather warnings transmitted over the TV or radio, his chest would tighten up and he would be overwhelmed with nervousness immediately. However, night after night and year after year these warnings would begin to feel redundant. The storm warning began to develop the same merit as hearing mom or dad say things like, “Be careful on that bike”, or “Don’t go play by the creek”. As a result, the feelings of extreme anxiety would turn into a calming angst towards the very idea of having a weather warning every summer night. Cheyenne’s revolution against fear was just beginning.
Power outages are unique. Maybe there is something romantic or adventurous about having the darkness of the black sky consume the surrounding air in a simple second. Lighting candles that flicker with the warm and unsettling breeze that creeps in through an open window might be enjoyable for some. Waiting in the dark, looking out the window, picking up the phone to see if it still works is a stark reminder of Mother Nature’s power. Cheyenne would not forget the power of nature but instead of fearing it, he moved to respect it. Soon power outages too, grew to be something he feared not.
As quick as a room gets dark, it lights up again, brighter than ever before. For a fraction of a second a wide-eyed reflection is visible in the mirror; then darkness again. Tremendous anticipation begins to build knowing a crack of thunder that Zeus himself has thrown is rumbling closer and closer. Some people look forward to moments like this. They take pictures of the storm or write stories about them, maybe even blogs. It can be inspiring. Cheyenne coerced himself into this group of people; a part of his aim to control the fear that once made him feeble.
The erratic, yet fantastic display of lightning from the view of two very human eyes creates a sense of awe and admiration. Staring at the staggered path the electricity carves out of the sky has turned into a hobby for some, a profession for others. Pink, orange, white, blue – all these colours emerge during lightning’s fiercest moments. They generate a spectacle of electrical proportions, too random to predict and too phenomenal to ignore. Instead of hiding under the arm of his mother, Cheyenne began to stand strong in the awesomeness of storms. He found he was very fond of the sights lightning brings. He would be bullied no more.
The unrestrained power of the storms began to lose their impressive standing in Cheyenne’s world. The tornado he watched grow through the eyes of a timid young boy glaring out the window of a basement-less cabin was not a tornado at all; it was merely a water spout. As a result of his newly maturing confidence, Cheyenne began to look towards storm season with excitement of being witness to a magical spell only nature could produce. His fear had finally left him. The ominous, oppressive thundercloud no longer held the ferocious power it utilized in the past. A life of liberation and freedom was to follow, a life free from the tyranny of fear-mongering and torment that he had grown up with. He had stared into the mouth of the beast and claimed victory. He now walks tall and proud in the land of living skies. There is no fear.
