The ominously named “Frankenstorm” has begun to announce its arrival here in the northeast.  As I took my afternoon walk down by the river, I noticed the water starting to swell and ripple with discomfort, like a pregnant woman a week past her due date.  The feral cats who usually greet me with a friendly meow had disappeared, no doubt seeking shelter underneath the rocky terrain.    I felt an agitated gust of wind push up against my back as if to move me out of its way as the usually playful seagulls shrieked in a frenzied pitch.

Between banal thoughts of whether I had purchased enough batteries or had an operable can opener, something more considerable hit my mind:  The timing of this storm, one week before our national election, is somewhat of a spiritual metaphor for the underlying sentiment brewing beneath the surface of this country.  Regardless of which side on the political fence you may sit, I think most of us can agree this is arguably the most polarizing and derisive election in our lifetime.  While both the storm and the election will pass, and we may be a little more worn for the wear, we are Americans and I have no doubt we’ll land collectively back on our feet.

And, just as the turkey is beginning to digest in our overstuffed stomachs, we’ll be approaching the mystical date of December 12, 2012 – a date anticipated with wonderment and an element of suspense, thanks to our ancient Mayan friends who have designated it as the period at the end of their sacred calendar’s sentence.   I don’t believe the world will physically end during that second week this December, but I do think we’re being ushered into a new age and time on this earth, one that begins with our ancestral brothers smiling down upon us and hoping we’ll get the message.