Judging Where the Wind Blows

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September 24rh, 2012

The wind is fierce. It can cause total destruction as it relentlessly pushes down upon its victim without impunity. To be caught in its down force can be devastating to everyone in its path. The wind shears wreak havoc as it blankets large swaths of area under its canvas.

I force my face into the gust of wind allowing the airstream to take my breath away in hopes it will pump new life into me. My lungs quickly fill up with nature’s oxygen stimulating my senses and arousing my life as it pours into my bloodstream reaching the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my toes. The air is refreshing to my soul.

I decided that if I can’t win in my fight against the wind then I will go with its flow and travel the path of least resistance. Sailing away in its embrace, as its swift winds push me off into the waters of tranquility. Where maybe I may find peace in its twisting horror of destruction by floating in its current, entwining my mind, body, and soul into its warped sense of comfort that it brings to those who may need to be provided with wind for their sails, or a nice breeze on a hot summer day or just a straight out lashing to remind them exactly who is the boss.

I want to soar on the far reaches of the wind, like I’m on a make believe surfboard being pushed across the sky as I ride the waves of clouds that reach out like white caps of an oceans wave. It appears so peaceful up here. Like staring out a planes portal and imagining if it’s as blissful as it appears out my window soaring from my seat at 30,000 feet as I think it is. And as I am finding out, it is and it’s perfect for me. It’s everything it could be and more.

I’m brought back to life from the thud of turbulence that has jolted me back to reality.

The rough patch wakes me up from my wonderment of the winds heavenly drift. I realize not everything is what it seems as I beg for it to stop. But the violent winds are relentless in its attack, as if to punish me for thinking less of it. The constant flow of air chokes me as I gasp to keep it out rather than let it in. I can’t shield myself from it. I have nowhere to hide so I must take the pounding and pray for a miracle that the winds will slowly die. The once new air that revitalized my blood stream now pushing it out and draining me of my rejuvenation.

I hunker down, button down the hatches, cover my face, shield my head, do what I have to do to survive this punishment, in the hope that a cloud will float by like a towel thrown in a boxers ring that protects the opponents beat down from getting worse. Just a little longer and maybe I will find my mercy. Weather this storm and see a brighter day. I must hold on. I have to survive its wrath as proof that I am strong enough to withstand such a clobbering. Where is that cloud that will sweep in and save me?

It’s silent.

The wind howls as it seeps into the creases that the weather stripping fails to cover as it echoes throughout the house. I stare at the wall and just listen to the wind. It’s talking to me. Am I listening to it now? The draft is chilly and I am cold. I grab a blanket to soften the winds touch as it lightly rolls across my naked skin. Goosebumps arise from my skin and it causes me to shiver. I curl up in the fetal position hoping that I will generate heat and it will assist me in my warmth and fend off the cool light breeze. But it’s not working. The breeze trickles in like a stream.

Did I weather the storm? Are the winds dying down? Is this slight breeze finally the beginning of the end? Can I try to breathe again?

So many questions in the air that can only be answered by which way the wind blows.

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