moments of joy: something as simple as a breeze through a window can be so lovely and soft, almost like a lullaby.
the wind has allowed me to feel really peaceful recently. to sit with it, and feel it against my skin. i watch someone fly a kite in the park, and suddenly nothing else matters. time seems to have slowed itself down for me as i watch the the ribbons loop and wrap across the open sky.
the gentle, soft, even breeze of a summer’s day feels like an ocean wave crashing against my body. the even-tempered “hello” that echos in every leaf, in every blade of grass. when i listen, i hear a mother shushing her baby to sleep.
fostering this awareness to the wind has bestowed me with an empathy for the rise and fall of my own emotions. the wind is never still, always moving, swaying and drifting. constantly morphing - expanding, contracting, running, jumping, falling, wading. she is the constant product of the pressure that surrounds her. some days she is a warm whistle carrying behind you in tandem and some days she Is the storm that destroys more than can be mended. on those days i remind myself it’s okay to feel something. it’s okay to crash, to fall, to feel worn because you’ve been whipped around. i remind myself it is okay to not feel the same even-tempered mood you’d expect to find yourself in. as long as i know that it will pass and something new will come again soon. because the wind is never still, and neither am i. if i stop and if i look closer, i will always see the patterns emerge in moving pictures in the tree leaves or the blades of grass, the hushed echos of rhythms i seem to mimic.
when i do, i have never felt more understood, i have never felt more safe.
