Between “it’s like oil on water”, a laughing stock, a “squall” and a storm, between “it doesn’t sell a breath” and “it sells a body”, living on islands far out at sea, we we know a chapter about the wind, the fishermen and the sailors more than the others. “It’s a real turmoil,” said the old folks when, that day, there was no question of anyone going on the water or everyone coming back to port quickly.
The wind is part of us every day, even when it is still. He gets up, forcibly, groans, turns, finally calms down, then falls and falls asleep. It comes from the front, back, side, sideways, from everywhere. He caresses, rocks, makes dance, disheveled, fans, whips. He sighs, sings, vibrates, whistles, howls, delirium. It refreshes or makes you shiver. It flies, swirls, rushes in and infiltrates from all sides. It dries, dust, swells the wave, pushes, sweeps, lifts, carries, carries, unleashes, tears, erodes, undoes. Tireless, ” […] it wears out the mountains, which do not wear it out ”.
What can the wind teach me? How does he teach me to live?
That, when I have it behind my back, in my veils, I can let myself be carried happily towards where I want to go or where it wants to take me, thanks to the momentum it gives me. As in life, when she gives me gifts, she sends me episodes of great happiness. Who always pass too quickly.
That I had better take advantage of the calm and beautiful weather as it passes, knowing that it is not here forever or for long. Bad weather will return, I know it. I never know where from. I know this is how life is.
That, when I have it in the face, that it threatens my unstable balance, I can bend my back to face it better, to rush with more energy, even if it is to advance more slowly. That, when he’s the strongest, it’s up to me to stop and take cover. When life brings me pain or desolation, tormented, helpless, I have no other choice but to do against all odds, to also face the obstacles and the more difficult, inevitable days, and to wait until ‘they pass. ” Everything goes. “
That I know how to adapt to changing circumstances, to the liking of the wind, between breeze and hurricane. It’s up to me to know what is and to have the will to do with it, at best, to experience what is there, to act accordingly, to adjust, to continue. We all do. This is our strength.
Let everything change. That I have no choice but to accept the ephemeral. That I must love life, fleeting, precious, uncontrollable, in all winds, in all weather. That I must not forget that the beauty of life lies in its fleetingness, knowing that what is there, imperfect, fragile, seemingly banal, one day will be no more. That its value comes from the change itself. And savor it.
Good time to all, by all the winds.