Here on the top of Vinegar Ridge, I am exposed to all the elements. I live in a remodeled barn with a tin roof. I could see the lightning flashing over head through the skylights, lighting up the inside of this old barn as if it were broad daylight, followed almost immediately by rolling waves of thunder.
Shaking the barn like a toy, the thunder blasted over head and echoed into the valley below. Loose boards rattled as the wind howled through cracks underneath the barn. Heavy rain hammered down onto the tin roof overhead, alternating with the skittering of hail. It was loud and boisterous and made any thoughts of sleep completely out of the question.
Unaffected by the chaos outside, Kwan Yin radiates with serene compassion.
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