On the outskirts of a quiet town stood a peculiar little cottage known only as The Weather House.
It didn’t forecast the weather outside.
It forecast the weather inside you.
Most people avoided it.
But one evening, after a day of invisible bruises, Leira found herself standing at its crooked doorstep.
Her whole day had gone wrong in ways she couldn’t explain:
A harmless comment at work had left her burning.
A short delay on the train made her chest tighten.
Someone raising their voice nearby sent panic through her bones.
A simple disagreement left her flooded with shame.
None of the emotions matched the situations —
and that frightened her most of all.
She stepped inside the Weather House, desperate for quiet.
Instead, the room shuddered…
and a gust of icy wind blasted across her face.
A voice from the corner spoke:
“Cold wind means old wounds.”
An elderly man emerged from the shadows, wearing a cloak stitched with suns, raindrops, and lightning bolts.
“Who are you?” Leira asked.
“The Weatherkeeper,” he said.
“I track the storms people don’t realize they carry.”
Leira looked around.
Each wall held a window —
and behind each window a different kind of weather churned.
Before she could speak, the first window flared white.
1. The Sudden Storm
Lightning cracked violently behind the glass.
“That’s anger,” the Weatherkeeper said.
“But not anger from today.”
Leira swallowed.
“Then from when?”
“From the first time you felt dismissed,” he answered.
“Today’s moment only echoed it.”
The storm calmed.
2. The Rising Heat
Another window glowed with suffocating heat —
dry, intense, overwhelming.
“Someone’s words burned you,” he said.
Leira nodded, remembering the careless criticism that felt like an attack.
“You weren’t reacting to their sentence,” he said gently.
“You were reacting to every voice that ever made you doubt yourself.”
The heat dimmed.
3. The Swarm of Sand
A third window filled with a swirling sandstorm.
Leira blinked. “What is that?”
“Confusion,” he said.
“When something reminds you of a past hurt, but you can’t see why.”
Sand rattled angrily against the glass.
“You felt lost today,” he said, “because your mind was protecting an old version of you.”
The sand settled.
4. The Tightening Fog
Another window steamed over with thick, choking fog.
Leira stared.
“That,” the Weatherkeeper said quietly,
“is fear. The kind you learned young. When your voice felt too small to matter.”
Leira’s hand trembled.
She remembered being silenced, corrected, overlooked.
The fog thinned.
5. The Sudden Downpour
A window burst with heavy rain.
She knew this feeling instantly.
“Sadness?” she whispered.
“Not sadness,” he said gently.
“Sadness you never let yourself feel. Rain that was postponed too long will always fall hard.”
Leira’s eyes stung.
She let the rain fall behind the glass until it softened to mist.
He rested a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Your reactions today weren’t irrational,” he said.
“They were weather reports.”
Leira blinked.
“Meaning…?”
“Every emotional trigger is the past trying to warn you, protect you, or be heard.
The intensity isn’t about now.
It’s about then.”
He led her to a final window —
but it was still, clear, calm.
“This,” he said softly, “is what happens when you stop fearing your weather.”
The glass reflected only her — steady, breathing, present.
“You cannot stop emotional weather,” the Weatherkeeper said.
“But you can learn the pattern.
A trigger is not a weakness.
It is a memory knocking.
A feeling asking to be understood.
A storm longing to pass.”
Leira exhaled — long, deep, releasing.
For the first time, the Weather House fell silent.
And when she stepped outside, the night air felt softer —
not because the world had changed,
but because she finally knew how to read her own sky.
Emotional triggers are not overreactions —
they are echoes of moments your body has not forgotten.
• Anger may be a storm from an old wound.
• Fear may be fog from a time you felt small.
• Sadness may be rain you weren’t allowed to feel.
• Panic may be heat from memories of losing control.
Your present triggers rarely belong to the present moment.
To heal them, you don’t force them away —
you listen.
Ask:
• “What past moment does this remind me of?”
• “What part of me is trying to feel safe?”
• “What emotion wants to be honored instead of suppressed?”
When you understand your emotional weather,
you stop being swept away by storms
and start learning how to walk through them with clarity, compassion, and grounding.
Your triggers are not your enemy.
They are your teachers,
pointing you toward the parts of you still waiting to be healed.
Body of Brilliance 