When the power goes out

I had a spiritual experience last night. A magnificent feeling of awe swept over my soul and left me in a state of profound wonderment at the oneness of The Universe. I considered, for a moment, dropping my earthly possessions and enrolling in a monastery. And then I got back on OkCupid.

You see, the power went out. A thunderstorm was to blame. I didn’t realize it at first, but this was a once-a-year type of thunderstorm. One where the term “severe” is actually deserved.

I have never said this publicly because it’s so damn cheesy, but my very favorite existential pastime (right ahead of staring blankly out an airplane window) is sitting on the porch with my pup during a thunderstorm. With the power out and nothing else to do, this was of course where we’d be.

All was proceeding normally at first. Khan assumed his position in the corner, with his nose, as usual, sticking through the steel railing. 5 minutes or so pass, and while the rain and thunder are still pretty mild, Khan starts to behave unusually. He starts leaning against me and then standing behind me. Being dim, my reaction was, “aww, he wants to cuddle.”

He didn’t want to cuddle.

The rain started picking up and, with it, the thunder. It wasn’t long before the big one came. This mother was so loud that I wasn’t sure whether it was thunder or a thousand oak trees cracking at once. It was so close that you felt pretty sure that the bolt was going to come down right on top of you.

It did.

I didn’t catch where it landed. I just remember it being really, really bright.

The thunder and lightning combination was pretty spiritual stuff, but what really got me was Khan’s reaction. This being a dog who is intimidated by little girls and puddles, I might have expected him to shake uncontrollably and start frantically scratching at the door. But he did none of those things. Instead, his reaction at that moment was awe. I think that’s the best way to describe it.

Me, I was shaking uncontrollably and frantically scratching at the door. There was probably a little panting in there, too. I ripped open the door and made it half-way in before realizing that I had forgotten the pupster. I look back and see him still sitting there by the chair, gently sniffing the air, transfixed. I run over and grab him by the collar and pull him inside.

We share a brotherly moment from the safety of the couch. We huddle together and look at each other and then around the house and then out the window. Khan’s ears are perked and he’s sitting up tall. He looks worried, but curious.

As I write about this, I still feel remnants of butterflies. This was probably the scariest thing that has happened to Khan and me in our 4 years together, and yet his reaction was just so... perfect.

I don’t mean to give the impression that Khan was one cool customer. He wasn’t. He was visibly nervous. But you would be too if you just got lighteninged upon. Me, I was freaked the fuck out.

What hit me was his combination of nervousness and curiosity. It was like, “yeah, that was scary as shit, but really interesting, too.” I find this profound because I tend to think of fear as an emotion whose purpose is to make us cower away from scary stuff. Well, it did, sort of. There was definitely some propulsion to escape to a safe place. But his curiosity, rather than being superseded by fear, was magnified.

I’ll try to keep that in mind next time I’m fretting over health care reform.

***

The funny thing about the power going out is the mixture of reactions. When the lights first go out, my reaction is anger at the fact that my electronic comforts have just been unfairly taken from me. But by the end, when the lights come back on and all the clocks blink at me telling me to change them, I feel something that might be described as regret or sadness or disappointment. I’m not sure I’m ready to be back in the world of electronic comforts just yet.

Of course, any economist will tell you that you always have the *option* to turn off the lights any time you want, so don’t feel so down, bro. The primitive life awaits; all you need to do is stop paying the power bill.

But it’s not that I long for the primitive life, I don’t think. I’m more than happy to play my slow jams and to log back into OkCupid and see if that girl responded yet. I can find pleasure and stimulation and anticipation in abundance in the digital world. But sometimes there’s something kind of nice about having all of that good stuff unfairly taken from you.