Today, I’m letting the wind inform me. It’s wildly gusty up here in the hills. Leaves are riding the wind waves to the shore of my driveway (though a few pirouette in skyward spirals on updrafts). Anything that’s not tied down, is going to blow away, blow down or mercilessly get tossed around. From this side of the double-paned windows, it sounds like a parade of jets departing SFO. Nothing knows stillness on a day like today.
I’ve known big winds in my own life, the kind that knock you sideways. A few years ago, one of those winds cut me loose. I can’t say whether it was losing or finding my center that set me adrift. Maybe it was switching my notion of center, from an external to an internal point, that had this boat I call “me” slip away from its dock.
The old anchors of home, marriage, and career had, all three, changed at the same time. I came to know many harbors as I let the winds of change blow me around. I began to know myself without the old anchors. I began to know myself as a center among many centers in the whole of life. I built a relationship with the Divine through meditation, ritual and nature. Now, the wind, the trees, the blowing leaves, all speak to me and they pose a lot of questions.
Today, I am asked and asking:
What needs to be released?
Am I meeting the winds of change with rigidity or giving them room to move through me?
Do I hunker down, ride it in exhilaration or let it snap me in two?
How sound are my roots?
Where have I chosen to plant myself and how secure and nurturing is the ground beneath me?
Am I clinging precipitously to a hillside or have I chosen more solid conditions?
Will I offer welcome sanctuary to other windswept creatures?
When the wind roars at me, will I roar back? Will I laugh as loudly?
Am I willing to dance, glide and dive in rapturous joy?
All these little leaf-boats setting sail upon this wind…do they know their center?
Do they know they are loved?
I have a Brian Andreas StoryPeople® print that says “I spent a long time trying to find my center until I looked closely one night and found it had wheels and moved easily in the slightest breeze, so now I spend less time sitting and more time sailing.”
When I bought that print, I could only dream of a center with wheels. Over these last few years, I developed a sturdy set of wheels and I am no longer adrift. I’m sailing. Sometimes skillfully and all too often flailing, but I’m sailing.
Today, I am grateful for in-formation from the wind.
all words and images copyright (c) April 2009, Kathy Loh, all rights reserved header photo by Kathy Loh