The Wind And Its Relationship To Me

When air masses are moving outside I feel at my most intimate, my most capable and most connected. For all the feelings of stagnation and staleness that seem to emerge from mundane daily chores and grinds of the proverbial, when air walls flurry up from the immediate and distant surroundings of my bodily senses I feel tremendously enriched, prone to realize the great connection to all of life. Without any hurry or obligation to do so, it just comes as naturally as sails stretch in the breeze.

My inner world and outer experience merge into a dialogue, an orchestra of sorts. I feel and in the same instance the metal windows of the kitchen bend and rattle as gushes flow with the invisible currents outside as if to call me, to shake me. To acknowledge my awareness of them and to come at me - not from an elevated position looking down, a physical phenomenon dominating my being but instead on the same caliber of... receptivity. A benign mirror of my own shell - out there. An awareness as great as my own, a dancing partner who needs no explanation of my next move because she already understands me to the core and has long gotten used to moving with me. To sing with me in harmonics as I pick my next line to vocalize. Effortless, synchronous.

The wind has its own spirit. From an onlooker's viewpoint it couldn't be more different from me but from my inner sensation and the subtle immediate feedback-loop of my awareness noticing it the wind has more to do with my true being than any human role I tell myself I have adopted.

A being alive and free, flowing where the currents lead to, unencumbered by the rigid structures of the physical. Invisible yet powerful, unknowable but feel-able, palpable and so impossible to pin down.

So elusive and yet so utterly material in nature - not even you can tell whether I am speaking of my human form or the airy streams of energy that have engulfed me as I am writing this...


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