It’s been windy all day, really windy.
I think the wind is mother nature’s voice. Most of the time she takes it, she’s silent, occasionally she rains, but there are times she needs to speak. Let it out.
Wind is the way she puts us all in our place. When things are blowing around and it’s hard to stand still, we tend to pay attention. Wind messes up our hair, makes noise. There’s a push to it, a recklessness, that I love.
It’s interesting that it’s windy the day after Christmas. Kind of one of those moments when a crazy relative whips the tablecloth off and all the fancy stuff goes flying. I don’t have any tablecloth relatives, I mean we’re all a little touched, but not quite tablecloth.
Wind right after Christmas feels like that, a tablecloth sweep. Glitter flying, a clearing of the space.
Yesterday was family, food, warm cozy fun, but the new year is where it’s always at for me. The start is my favorite part, so this wind feels like a fresh cool bite of start.
I’m excited for the new year, the what—lies—ahead. A beginning is exciting, but one ushered in by wind, by the voice and howl of mother nature herself, feels like something special.
It’s cold tonight in the desert, cold and windy. All the Christmas fancy is put away and the dishes are clean. I’m in my office, with my tea, listening to the beautiful, edgy wind. I’m trying to be present, right where I’m at, but I can’t help looking forward.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Blow Out the Candle.
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