The wind sounds as if it is the sea,
outside my window.
phantom of movement and atoms,
swirling about our ears,
bringing us to tears.
The wind in our souls can be brutal, can’t it? There are days my insides feel like a hurricane is not only passing through, but has decided to live permanently in my chest. The wafts of self rejection and judgement and the seemingly endless expectations I heap on myself only add to the frenzy. I am so good at encouraging those gales. Often, instead of calming them, instead of moving to quiet places in myself, I whip them up higher and higher, egging them on, playing chicken with my own psyche.
In general though, I love wind. I love the energy it brings, I love the way it plays with my hair, I love that it can bring exotic smells with it. The tears come, I think, when we fight with the wind or when we ask it to be something it is not. Some days it is strong, some days it is gentle. The wind inside us can help us to see new things, shake us deep down and invite us into unfamiliar territory, if we let it do its job.
These days I’m finding calm spaces by simply doing less. By just stopping. When the gale rises inside, I find that instead trying to convince the winds to still through action, a few moments of outer stillness does wonders for the inner hurricane.
When I do that, I can start to see what the wind is saying to me, and make friends with it. And laugh.