April 9, 2012

Windsong and words

Posted in On Writing, Stalking Beauty, The Wild Sky at 11:51 am by

I love to hear the wind whistle outside my office window, to see the blowing cherry petals flashing bright-dark-bright against the eggshell blue sky and the few slowly sailing, fray-edged clouds. If I lean forward at my computer, I can see an arch of the weeping cherry itself, the branches lashing like horse tails and then falling still, the flowers catching light. The wind flutes again, long notes like a Japanese shakuhachi; something about the angle of the corners or the windows here bows it, makes it sing.

A tiny dark spot moving across a cloud, impossibly high — a bird? I glimpse something golden that might be sun on wings, and then it leaves the cloud’s face and I lose it against the blue.

Another cloud growing larger, growing closer, almost seeming to descend as it fills my window, as if it were about to collide with the building…and then it passes over and is gone.

Now my office mate has her window open, the blind flapping, and I can feel the wind as well for a few moments before the blind flies up suddenly on a strong gust, and she hurries to close it again —

— * —

So I went out for a walk over my lunch hour (the wind was too much to resist), around the athletic fields, picking my way through drifts of violets, the sun’s warmth coming and going on my skin — walking into the wind, spreading my fingers like flight feathers and feeling the air curl around and behind them to lick against my palms. Feeling as if I could lift off and fly.

Walk, my Mother urges me. Write. Again and again. The things that I know are good for me, that lift me out of anxiety and depression. That turned my weekend around, from apathy and exhaustion to engaged activity. Clothes sorted, yard work accomplished, blog posts made, weekly offerings and prayers presented, and all because I put pen to paper and let the words flow, because I got outside, into the open air, beneath the sky. Breath of the wind and breath of the words, both raise me up, both raise up my heart.

O Bast, may I remember. The wind. The words. This wonder.

1 Comment »

  1. Emky said,

    April 11, 2012 at 2:25 pm

    This. Yes. This.

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