I wanted to write this new post last month, but The Wind wouldn’t let me. She said, ‘It isn’t ready yet. It isn’t time.’ It sounded more ‘Woooooooooooo’ than words but yet I could understand every one of them.

I knew when I left the island; driving my car off that ferry in Vancouver for the last time, that She was with me. ‘I’ve got your back’, She blew. I heard Her loud and clear though the day was calm and I was happy as a lark to be getting back to the mountains. There was no rain in the valley when we arrived. Only little snow. Up the mountainside, we scrunched our load from the beach house into this downsized condo. I felt like The Grinch; it was early December, pushing my stuff into this place, instead of letting it fly here and there off that moving van and into the houses of whoever might need it, like Santa might do. But, it didn’t matter. However disorganized I felt I still found my space. It expanded whenever I entered it.

I noticed Her first when I went to do my yoga on the deck. There was nothing I was holding inside or out. Just motion moved me. Then from behind came a sound as if it was climbing. I didn’t realize it till She was at my back. But She didn’t touch me. She’s much too graceful for that. Too gracious. Rather, She came alongside me, along the rock wall that edges the patios and stands near the forest ground. It was them She caressed. The trees. They made Her sound. Her sway. In unison, like an ocean wave.

Romeo met Her downtown in the next few days. He came home with a broken tale of eyeglasses blown on the ground and run over by a truck. ‘It was SO windy!’ he declared, but his eyes spoke louder than words with his stare. His glasses were crumpled into something an old man would wear when he lost his sense and I thought about Her power to turn the tides of time a thousand times until history has blown its story open-wide and we all no longer remember ourselves.

She started it at the beginning, I think. How She made that sound, that first word that no one heard. You know, the way She makes all the sounds of the wind without actually making a sound at all. Just by moving Herself into a vibration that extends itself into space and moves all the objects in its way, without even really touching them. She works among them. She plays there. She expands Her presence and everything and everyone knows She’s there and who She is, without knowing Her at all. If this is what it is like to be The Wind, Ooooooooooooh, how I want to befriend The Wind!

love,

Juliet