Hurricane season brings a humbling reminder that, despite our

Hear the words of Diane Ackerman, poet of earth and spirit, who reminds us: “Hurricane season brings a humbling reminder that, despite our technologies, most of nature remains unpredictable.” In this saying lies a truth older than the mountains, a truth carved by wind and wave: that man, for all his towers, machines, and proud inventions, is still but a guest upon this earth. He may measure the skies, map the oceans, and build engines that pierce the heavens, yet the storms still rise with power untamed, and remind him of his smallness before the eternal force of nature.

The hurricane is more than weather; it is symbol. It is the roaring voice of the sea, the unchained breath of the wind, the reminder that creation itself is not bound to human will. One moment the skies are calm, the next they are furious with violence. Even as our technologies seek to predict and control, the storm humbles them, slipping through our grasp, defying our certainty. The wise see in this not despair, but revelation: that humility must walk hand in hand with knowledge, and reverence with power.

Consider the ancient tale of Pompeii, where the people lived in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius. They built fine homes, created mosaics of beauty, and believed their world secure. Yet when the mountain woke, all was swept away in fire and ash. Their art, their technologies, their daily labors could not withstand the force of nature. Centuries later, their preserved ruins whisper to us the same warning Ackerman gives: never forget that the earth itself, which nurtures us, also holds power beyond imagining.

Or recall the story of Hurricane Katrina in our own age. The city of New Orleans, proud of its culture and endurance, was struck with devastation. Levees broke, waters rose, and lives were swept into chaos. Satellites had traced the storm, engineers had built defenses, yet the force of the hurricane outmatched them. What followed was not only destruction, but revelation of human vulnerability—reminding us that our greatest defenses are fragile before the vast hand of the sea and sky.

And yet, let us not only tremble, but learn. For though nature humbles us, she also teaches. In her unpredictability, she calls us to prepare, to respect, to live not with arrogance but with reverence. The storm need not leave us hopeless; it may awaken in us resilience, compassion, and the will to rebuild stronger. Just as the tree bends before the wind and rises again, so too can humanity endure when it remembers its place in the great order of things.

Therefore, O listeners, do not trust blindly in technologies as though they make you masters of the earth. Use them, honor them, but remember their limits. Know that wisdom is not to conquer nature, but to live in harmony with her—to build wisely, to prepare humbly, to adapt bravely. The storm may not be tamed, but the spirit of man can be strengthened through it.

The lesson is clear: the world is not ours to command, but ours to steward. Walk with awe, prepare with diligence, and accept with courage what cannot be controlled. In your own life, do not cling to the illusion of total mastery—leave space for the unknown, for the unpredictable, for the storm that may one day test you. And when it comes, let it not only humble you, but awaken you to the truth that survival, resilience, and reverence are greater treasures than control.

Practical counsel I give: prepare for the storms, but also learn from them. Build wisely, but also live with humility. Honor nature, not as an enemy to subdue, but as a power to respect. In this way, you shall walk not as one deceived by pride, but as one aligned with the eternal rhythm of sea and sky—ready to endure, ready to rise again, no matter how fierce the hurricane may roar.