And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.

You are not controlling the storm, and you are not lost in it. You are the storm.

place. But what few people realize is that the storm ends because you’re different.

Sometimes, the only way out of a storm … is to go through it.

Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.

We'll get through this, the Church has been through a whole lot worse than this, but the thing is when you're in the middle of the storm, most of the time, all you comprehend is the storm. And when you're in that storm, it's like, when will this ever end? Because all your energy is focused on getting out of the storm and getting through the storm alive. You lose sense that it was calm before the storm, and there'll be calm afterwards and life will go on.

When you come back you will not be you. And I may not be I.

It's difficult to ever go back to the same places or people. You turn away, even for a moment, and when you turn back around, everything's changed.

No matter what happens, the storm eventually ends and when the storm does end, you want to make sure you’re ready.

You fell in love with a storm. Did you really think you would get out unscathed?

None of these adventitious mental states are the real you. You are not controlling the storm, and you are not lost in it. You are the storm.

Sometimes a storm in your life is what will blow you to the place you are longing to be.

We faced it and did not resist. The storm passed through us and around us. It's gone, but we remain.

The hurricane that has swept us away is so strange & new a phenomenon that we shall not for some time understand its real meaning. ... It seems to me to be inspired by some definite desire for change: & means business. It may disappear as rapidly as it came: or it may be the beginning of a serious war of classes. Gladstone is doing all he can to give it the latter meaning.