A hurricane of thoughts after Milton

Are we blaming external storms, or are we our own hurricanes?

I told my friends on social media that I wouldn't talk anymore about Hurricane Milton, but I'm afraid I'll break my promise.

Since I saw death firsthand, I need to share my thoughts after this extreme experience. The swirl of death was broadcast live to the whole world, and for several hours I had an expected time to die because I live right at the center of its projected path in Central Florida.

It's not every day that we face our possible last moments. It was probably the sensation of being on an airplane that you knew beforehand would crash somewhere.

In the end, the “storm of the century” lost its strength. Although it produced widespread destruction and loss of life especially in the coastal cities by the Gulf of Mexico, my area was less affected. Here, it was a terrifying storm that scattered debris everywhere and left people without power for an entire day, but didn’t cause much more than that.

I live in a city that was evacuated by the authorities, and we had to go 100 miles north. Our biggest concern was for our nephews and our two cats. I witnessed the panic, the scarcity of goods, and the crowded roads. The primary concern for people, understandably, was their lives and their property.

And I started to think about some interesting things.

Have you noticed that most people only act urgently in emergencies or when they have no other choice? This is especially true when it comes to external factors that are beyond our control.

But the truth is that our daily routines, when things are calm and under control, can be much more dangerous and lethal than a hurricane. Far more lives and properties are destroyed by our negligence regarding our minds, health, and state of spirit.

If we stop to think, we sometimes behave like our own Miltons in our lives every day. Are we blaming external storms, or are we our own hurricanes complicating our peace and our journey? Remember, true strength lies in our ability to manage our internal storms, for they often pose the greatest threat to our well-being.

Sometimes, I get a sense that I’m doing something, but in fact, I'm not achieving anything; I’m just wasting my precious time. Time that is not eternal or endless, and that won’t remain the same in the future. Sometimes I'll get sick, other times I'll be caught up in things unrelated to my growth, or I'll lack inspiration. Other times, I find myself doing something that has already been done but needs corrections.

I don't want to be hyper-focused on a productivity craze: it's just not helpful. For no one of us I think. But every moment must have a fair approach. We must find a way to fill each available moment with something that will project itself into the future, paving a way to somewhere, making it part of a whole process.

That’s my biggest challenge. That’s the challenge for so many of us with ADHD.

But there’s something more important, something we can’t afford to forget: we need to have a chance to live in peace, equanimity, and bliss to build our emotional home with foundations stronger than our physical home.

Equanimity is the state of mental and emotional stability, calmness, and composure, especially in challenging or stressful situations. It aims to reach a balanced mindset regardless of external circumstances, allowing us to remain centered and unaffected by extreme emotions.

Without the balance provided by our emotional home, nothing is worth it. Even if we manage our ADHD symptoms, we would still have a poor quality of life.

In search of our essence—whatever it is—there's nothing more important than that. To discover who we really are, what our mission is, and where our soul points.

Because this life is so short, and we never know when we're on the path of a hurricane. No matter if it appears in the weather radars as a natural phenomenon, or something within ourselves.

We must try to map the path of our internal hurricanes so we can take the appropriate measures to have the life we deserve and can achieve.

Sorry if these ideas seem disorganized. I’m still trying to understand it more accurately.

Josh.