Storm occupies a remarkably multivalent position across the depth-psychology corpus, functioning simultaneously as cosmological force, psychological metaphor, and symbol of transformative rupture. The term’s valence shifts decisively depending on whether the interpreter stands within a Greek-archaic, East Asian cosmological, existential-philosophical, or contemporary therapeutic framework. In the Greek materials — Caswell on thumos, Padel on tragic emotion, Epictetus on the ruling faculty — storm is the outer analogue of inner turbulence: the psyche behaves like weather, and wind, rain, and tempest furnish the very vocabulary of passionate movement. For the I Ching commentators (Wilhelm, Ritsema, Huang, Cleary), storm as the composite of thunder and rain is not catastrophe but a dialectical, purifying event whose aftermath restores harmony and makes deliverance possible. Eliade reads the storm as privileged theophany of the celestial supreme being, terror disclosing the sacred. Nietzsche inverts this valence, casting the storm-wind as the vehicle of Zarathustra’s euphoric transformation. In ACT (Harris), storm becomes therapeutic metaphor for overwhelming affect — the tree in the tempest — against which ‘grounding’ is the curative response. Across all these traditions, storm marks a threshold: the moment when contained psychological or cosmic order is exceeded, and something either shatters or is renewed.