The Wind in my soul
When do we get the time?
When can we finally breathe deep, and look out on the lake?
When does that perfect sunset come?
When are we truly one, and connected to our inner selves?
Like the Cat Stevens song, there is a true rustling in the leaves of our lives. There are perpetually so many things to think about and wrestle with in this jagged storm front, and all the while, the breeze continues. It gives us shivers. It blows away sand from the stone. It separates the wheat from the chaff.
We can look into the distance all we want, and surmise that a magical path will unfold, but in reality, there is no magic path.
On routes that sweep across the rocky crags of this country, and through the dead-straight squared fields of yellow, I've done some thinking.
I've heard a lot of songs.
We move with the song. We let the notes careen around in our cortexes and we take a step. It gives us courage and it keeps us centered. We hear a powerful lyric and we get urged forward.
We don't know why - we just step.
We move with the feel-flows.
I've met windy individuals in my life - figures who seem to show up at the height of a majestic moment and then disappear into the shadows when the rubber hits the road.
I've experienced some deeply spiritual moments that can't be explained away.
They are what they are.
But still, we press on without the perfect, picturesque. We hide it in our mind's eye and we let the effervescent spring-mist guide us.
That wind. That cold, cold wind of truth and change.
It is there.
It comes for all.
