Walking with the Wind

The wind is us, it gathers and remembers all our voices, then sends them talking and telling through the leaves and the fields.”

Truman Capote

For as long as I can remember, I have loved the wind. From blossom floating breezes to flag snapping westerlies, it carries a sense of magic. After all, Mary Poppins blew in on the wind and Dorothy and Toto were no longer in Kansas thanks to a mighty windstorm.

Northern California, where I grew up, provided the perfect geography to ensure a constant current of air from the Pacific coast to the San Francisco Bay. Depending on the direction from which it blew, the air was tinged with the smell of salty, slimy kelp or fishing boats with their catch of the day warming in the sun.

Each summer morning, I would wake up and immediately go outside. Poking my freshly licked index finger skyward , I would slowly turn in a circle. I was waiting for the cool, drying sensation on my fingertip, alerting me which cardinal wind was here to play. My dash back into the kitchen to don shoes and grab a snack signaled to my Mother that I was off on an adventure.

Sometimes the breezes were gentle, inviting me to feel the warm Summer day with the scents of eucalyptus and lantana. On other days, the gusts were stronger. My head bent down, shoulders hunched up to meet both ears, body tilted forward against the gale force, I would embrace the challenge. This wind walking was exhilarating! The wind and I were one … our pulses pounded with possibilities ahead.

Through the years, the same feelings of exhilaration and magic arrive on the wind. Yet now, the wind brings a shift to the here and now – an invitation to go on a sacred, contemplative journey towards my true North, South, East or West. It is, at once, stabalizing and toppling, grounding and lifting. Centering.

Walking with the wind is a moving meditation, allowing my mind to wander and wonder as muscles and joints rhythmically power forward. My breath becomes the internal wind.

“Wind is the invisible force of nature whose thumbprint leaves an indelible mark on time and space.”

Renee Baribeau, The Practical Shaman