Tonight, we came home during the middle of a thunderstorm. So I figured I’d skip the usual ritual liturgy for the night, and improvise something for Indra, the Vedic god of thunderstorms. I’m going to write something down here quickly before I lose the inspiration.
Great god of the Thunderstorm.
I am grateful for your glorious show of lights, turning the blackest night into the clearest day for a blinding moment.
You bring me into the present moment with your crashes of thunder.
I am in awe.
Your lightning destroys forests, land, and human creations alike, and I am powerless to it.
You remind me that I am intimately connected to the greatest forces of nature.
You create forest fires so that new groves of trees may grow up in fertile soil.
You turn miserable humidity into fresh, cool breezes.
You water our crops and fields with blessed and precious summer rain.
I dance in your wind and your water and your fury.
You bring me new life.
I also gave Indra a nice drink of some beer I had in the fridge, since I’m fresh out of soma and all, and since I’ve noticed that oil just burns the grass. Oops. File that under lesson number two.