Friday, 20 November 2009

The wind

In my late teens I was terrified by the wind, even the sound of it moving trees would create feelings of dread in me. I had a fear of freak accidents and the sound of the wind blowing things around seemed to speak of an unknown and powerful enemy. There would be no reason behind my death and it would be reported as a tragic freak accident, it would be “such a shame”. I am not sure where the fear came from, maybe being a young mum gave me a sense of my own desperation to stay alive, maybe coming from a deeper fear of dying before I had made my mark on the world.
In the last twenty years the sound of the wind has changed to where now when I hear the wind I want to be outside, I want to feel the wind move my hair, touch my skin. I want to watch as it moves the trees, enthralled by its power and freedom. I think about what it looks like when there is nothing there to be moved, no sound to make, no one to notice.
Yesterday we visited new friends across the border in Wales. The wind was making its presence felt, throwing the branches around, leaves blowing all over the place, it was wild weather. We were meeting to talk about the journey and where it may lead in the future. So today I wonder whether my love for the wind is linked to my love for the wild, for the emerging life of a wild wanderer, to be free from restraint, to follow where the wind blows without concern for personal ambition or achievement, without the fear of freak accidents and without the need to make a mark on the world. To just be free to follow the wild wind of Spirit, to go where he leads and to be who he says I am.

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