Anne2345
03-18-2013, 03:54 PM
Wind has always fascinated me.
From the gentle, warm, enveloping caress and tender kiss of a soft cool breeze on a hot summer's eve, to the stinging, hurtful bite of a harsh, icy, powerful gale blast taken straight to the bare, naked, unprotected face during the dark, frigid, unforgiving dead of a dreary, overcast, and freezing winter, wind captures my imagination, exerts its heady influence, and bathes and marks all in its realm.
Although people come and go, and life marches on cycle after cycle after cycle, wind is always constant. Wind is always there. At least, wind is always somewhere, existing in some form or another, doing what wind does, just being wind.
Wind, after all, constitutes reality. It blows, it swirls, it moves, it howls, it dances, and it pushes air along a seemingly random path, teasing so-called experts with hints of predictability, where it travels the world at the whim and request of Mother Nature.
At times, wind pushes air forcefully, perhaps even angrily, destructively, with unabated authority blowing through all that stands before it. Yet other times, the wind may push air just ever so slightly, ever so delicately, ever so innocently and so unobtrusively as to be hardly noticed, observed, or even acknowledged except by the most sensitive, base level of the subconscious.
Still, wind is wind, regardless of its ever changing form, strength, character, mood, mystery, or majesty. Wind has travelled the world from the dawn of time, and shall continue to travel its paths until the world is no more.
Whether cold, wet, warm, icy, strong, weak, tender, mild, harsh, gentle, or scary, I love, respect, and appreciate the wind. Whether it sneaks up from behind, strikes head on, or chaotically wisps, gusts, and whips around from all directions, I embrace and cherish its natural assault.
To experience wind in this fashion is to experience life. In this world, wind is as wind does. Wind makes no excuses for its actions. Wind does not apologize for what it may or may not be. Wind acts in strict accordance with its own principles and rules, as set forth, influenced, and guided by Mother Nature. Wind is never anything that the wind is not. Wind simply is.
Would that I could say the same about my own rather paltry existence, but alas, I unfortunately cannot, and therein lies the crux of my problem . . . .
Among all things that wind may be, though, wind is also is a reminder. For every time wind slaps me in the face as I am walking from my car to the office, or chills my hands as I play tag with my daughter and her friends, or blows me playfully back before the ocean on a sand dune, or gently and comfortably massages mind, body, and spirit during a fragrant walk through the spring-time woods, wind is a reminder that I am indeed alive, and that I remain able to experience, feel, and soak in the natural power, spirit, brilliance, and beauty of the world.
Wind has always been here, and be here it shall always. Regardless of its temperament and disposition, the wind touches all, and sees all. There is no denying the truth of the wind, or the truth to the wind. Regardless, it is not the wind's function or nature to judge. The wind cares not who we are. The wind is equal-opportunity.
In the end, the wind shall have its glory and have its way.
But should I ride the currents, learn its lessons, respect its power, let go and be true to myself, my nature, and simply be, perhaps I will find my glory, as well . . . .
From the gentle, warm, enveloping caress and tender kiss of a soft cool breeze on a hot summer's eve, to the stinging, hurtful bite of a harsh, icy, powerful gale blast taken straight to the bare, naked, unprotected face during the dark, frigid, unforgiving dead of a dreary, overcast, and freezing winter, wind captures my imagination, exerts its heady influence, and bathes and marks all in its realm.
Although people come and go, and life marches on cycle after cycle after cycle, wind is always constant. Wind is always there. At least, wind is always somewhere, existing in some form or another, doing what wind does, just being wind.
Wind, after all, constitutes reality. It blows, it swirls, it moves, it howls, it dances, and it pushes air along a seemingly random path, teasing so-called experts with hints of predictability, where it travels the world at the whim and request of Mother Nature.
At times, wind pushes air forcefully, perhaps even angrily, destructively, with unabated authority blowing through all that stands before it. Yet other times, the wind may push air just ever so slightly, ever so delicately, ever so innocently and so unobtrusively as to be hardly noticed, observed, or even acknowledged except by the most sensitive, base level of the subconscious.
Still, wind is wind, regardless of its ever changing form, strength, character, mood, mystery, or majesty. Wind has travelled the world from the dawn of time, and shall continue to travel its paths until the world is no more.
Whether cold, wet, warm, icy, strong, weak, tender, mild, harsh, gentle, or scary, I love, respect, and appreciate the wind. Whether it sneaks up from behind, strikes head on, or chaotically wisps, gusts, and whips around from all directions, I embrace and cherish its natural assault.
To experience wind in this fashion is to experience life. In this world, wind is as wind does. Wind makes no excuses for its actions. Wind does not apologize for what it may or may not be. Wind acts in strict accordance with its own principles and rules, as set forth, influenced, and guided by Mother Nature. Wind is never anything that the wind is not. Wind simply is.
Would that I could say the same about my own rather paltry existence, but alas, I unfortunately cannot, and therein lies the crux of my problem . . . .
Among all things that wind may be, though, wind is also is a reminder. For every time wind slaps me in the face as I am walking from my car to the office, or chills my hands as I play tag with my daughter and her friends, or blows me playfully back before the ocean on a sand dune, or gently and comfortably massages mind, body, and spirit during a fragrant walk through the spring-time woods, wind is a reminder that I am indeed alive, and that I remain able to experience, feel, and soak in the natural power, spirit, brilliance, and beauty of the world.
Wind has always been here, and be here it shall always. Regardless of its temperament and disposition, the wind touches all, and sees all. There is no denying the truth of the wind, or the truth to the wind. Regardless, it is not the wind's function or nature to judge. The wind cares not who we are. The wind is equal-opportunity.
In the end, the wind shall have its glory and have its way.
But should I ride the currents, learn its lessons, respect its power, let go and be true to myself, my nature, and simply be, perhaps I will find my glory, as well . . . .