Hurricane: An Origin Story
It’s hurricane season here in Florida, and we’ve had a couple of very serious, very destructive storms this season, impacting not just Florida but elsewhere along the eastern parts of the US.
Hurricanes are a tropical phenomenon catalyzed by heat. They thrive in warm air and warm waters. The warmer the water, the more potent the storm. Hurricanes are the earth’s way of cooling off the hotter areas near the equator, distributing the heat further north to cooler climes.
It brings to mind a rotund (blue) woman sweating it out in the summertime. Towards the end of the season, after enduring months of relentless heat coupled with 10,000% humidity, she’s had enough. She breaks out her mister fans and spins some of that hot air away from her core, distributing the heat away from the warmest parts of her. Only in a hurricane’s case, it’s a smidge windier than a simple mister fan, and comes with not mist but sideways rain and storm surge big enough to move houses.
Go big or go home.
There’s also the well-documented “Butterfly Effect.” A butterfly flapping it’s wings in Africa creates a chain reaction of air movement. The infinitesimal amount of air displaced by the fluttering of dainty wings grows, moving further west into the Atlantic where it continues to strengthen into a gyre of roaring wind that carves its way through the western north Atlantic, Caribbean, Gulf of Mexico, and North America.
On the other side of the ocean, the Taino people of the Caribbean had a god of the hurricane, Juracán. There are different versions of his tale.
Juracán often worked with Guabancex, the goddess of wind and storms. Juracán was not just a god, but was said to be the storm itself; his body the howling wind and driving rains. He would rage ashore, leaving piles of destruction in his wake.
The Taino also knew that with great destruction comes the opportunity for creation. For great change to occur, for something new to flourish. They knew that these storms were part of life, part of the cycles of nature, and built their lives accordingly around this force. They came to regard Juracán as an opportunity for rebirth.
Across the Gulf of Mexico, a Mayan god, Huracán, reigned. Legend has it that this storm god wiped out humanity twice before crafting this more satisfactory form sported today. Evidently the first two iterations were not exactly what the god had in mind for humans and it was a re-do situation.
It’s supposed that the Taino god influenced the name of the Mayan god, but there is still scholarly debate about it. In any case, these names, Juracán and Huracán, are the origins of the English word we use to describe these swirling masses of destruction: Hurricane.
Through these stories handed down through time, we not only learn a bit of etymology— and I do very much enjoy that aspect— but also how people have been managing these storms and their effects for generations.
The storms are not new.
People are resilient.
While these storms are many things, they do offer a lesson of hope. They have a way of putting in perspective what really matters. When the power is out and our routines, fueled by the convenience of electricity, are short circuited, we start to look at what’s immediately around us.
Friends, family, neighbors are out of harms way.
Lending generators, trucks, a helping hand.
Neighbors collaborating with chainsaws, gloves, and strong backs to clear the roadways.
Offering showers, charging stations to those without power.
Donations of time, effort, and money to help those who were impacted harder than you, who lost a roof or a whole home, knowing it could have just as easily been you and yours.
While it invariably looked different a hundred, five hundred, a thousand years ago, these storms have been here, and will continue to be here.
We will learn, adapt, and overcome just as our ancestors— and the ancestors of this land— have done before us.
When massive destruction hits, there is opportunity. An opportunity to not just build it back, but to create something new. It’s an invitation not to keep living how we’ve done, but to take a closer look and see what’s working and what’s not.
We can do the same thing. And get the same results. Or we can work together to create a world that knows and honors these cycles of Nature, that lives more closely with her.
One step, helping hand, or sympathetic ear at a time.
My story: My family and I are fine. Hurricane Helene, who wreaked havoc on the west coast of Florida, in North Carolina, and Tennessee, missed us. Hurricane Milton was going to miss us and then decided to throw us some tornadoes for funsies. I’ve dubbed them Miltonadoes, and we witnessed two of them from our front window before deciding to have a candlelit picnic in the closet. Our power was only out for 2.5 days, and we’ve already repaired the part of the fence that fell. Now we’re doing what we can to help those who were less fortunate– including a lot of praying. I invite you, no matter where you live in the world or what your spiritual belief system is, to do the same. If you feel called to donate, this article has some suggestions to help people who have lost it all. Thank you.