One thing that continues to amaze me is how you can meet a person, who you think you probably have nothing in common with, until you begin to talk with them. And then you realize that they speak your soul's language. I am honored to call Shade Ardent, over at the unspared rod one of these sorts of soul sisters. We were talking this morning about the wind, and realized that we both have very similar memories about it. So we decided to both write our experiences, and cross link to each other's posts. I encourage my readers to go over and browse her blog - her voice is strong and poetic and hauntingly beautiful.
Here is her post on wind ...
And here is mine ...
It was monsoon season. The rain had been coming for days, driven almost sideways across the island by a ferocious wind. It pushed incessantly through the front mat wall of our house, and our veranda floor was constantly damp.
Everything was constantly damp, for that matter. My clothes, hung on a line strung between the stilts under our house, never got quite dry. Little black dots of mold had appeared on all my T-shirts weeks ago, and now they smelled faintly sweet and musty after a few minute's wearing. Even my foam mattress and pillow had that not-quite-dry feeling.
And then one morning, the sun finally came out. It shone hot, hard diamonds on the puddles and dripping leaves. The wind blew joyously off the lagoon and we all celebrated with it. Onto the beach we ran to meet the wind. It had been a hard thing, needling the rain and shaking my house on its stilts. But now with the sun it became a wild, boundless thing that called to us a challenge. Will you tame me? Will you catch me? I couldn't help but respond.
On the white, wet sand I stood, my layered lava lavas clapping fiercely at my calves. I felt it, pushing primal and free against all of me, impatient in its rush in to the defiant bush. It set the palm trees bowing, lava lavas and t-shirts flapping horizontal on the lines, and snatched words from my mouth almost before I'd uttered the sounds, flinging the echo of my own voice mockingly past my ears. The sun shone above with a blessing and a challenge. Will you tame it? Will you catch it?
I unwrapped my outer lava lava, leaving the inner one still tucked around my waist. Taking two corners of the fabric, I tied them together around my hips. Now I had a rectangular train stretching behind me. A little waterspout formed cheerfully out on the edge of the lagoon. The wind pushed. My hair pulled out in a frizzy replica of the swirling water. The wind pushed.
I took the furthest corners of the lava lava, wrestling them to me against the flow of air. Stretching my arms above my head, with one end of the lava lava tied around my waist and the other clenched in my upraised fists, the fabric gave a snap. A pop. And back it pushed, a sail holding the wind.
My body the mast, my lava lava the sail, I held the wind. And then I ran. Into the rush, into the flow, my sail full, I ran. I ran, and I jumped, and for a minute the wind held me, held me up, defiant of gravity. For a moment, I was weightless.
For a moment, I was free.