
05/06/2025
I haven’t lived in CA long enough to remember to be afraid of the wind. And I don’t want to be afraid of the wind. I want to remember to marvel at the wind. I want to feel its power and know this is part of the dynamic world we live in. I want to inhale the ions in the air that clear everything in its wake… dead tree branches, leaves still hanging on long after autumn time, my aura and my head, my garden and my spirit. A big wind can feel threatening only if we’re afraid of nature… not feeling a part of it. When did we learn to be afraid of the wind? Who taught us to feel separated from the power of nature and our own power? What if we let the wind mess up our hair and our lawns and our hidden secrets like dead branches on trees that need unhinging? What if we sprawled in the aftermath of a blowout windstorm and felt the clarity and fresh outlook it brings. I don’t want to be afraid of this world. Our world. The wind. Mother nature. Myself. We didn’t even have a fire. I’m going to keep forgetting to be afraid of the wind.