Blown Over

"The winds will blow their freshness into you...the storms, their energy."

The wind has picked up this evening. I am cold for the first time in months. My door squeaks as the hinges are forced another centimeter open by the breath of the wind. A chill runs down my spine into my toes and radiates energy into these character-filled wooden floor boards. Another squeak followed by another gust that presses my writing forward.

Although I miss the changing of seasons, the almost ceremonial changing of wardrobes, I am beginning to think that this water logged existence is a well kept secret. The wind here carries with it a gravity that seems to flow in from the water. A reprieve from the heat that remains comfortable.

Tonight, I can almost feel the gift that the wind bellows in. The gift of fall, of "winter" a season whose definition is sure to change in the eyes of this little one. I am aware that the warming of temperatures is most likely still around the corner before winter blankets this region in which I now live. Tonight however, I am thankful for the sound of squeaky hinges.

Indicative of changes that have recently blown through and over my terrain. Indicative of changes sure to come. Comforting in its swirling mess of things and bending palm trees. Yes, this wind is welcome.

I am so thankful for the turns my life has taken as of late and for these gifts, I have many to thank. Friends, both new and old, projected over telephone lines and plates of tacos, the friends and family I am blessed with humble me daily. The individuals that choose to speak and listen in equal turn. The people with whom I can laugh (and even snort if it's really funny) with, the people I am excited to get to know better, the people who have contributed to my survival and eventual thriving, here in Florida. Like the wind this evening, these people are a reprieve for which I am thankful.

Ushering in change with arms flung so widely that they may buckle at the shoulder, seems tonight, to have been a positive follow of gut instinct. I have learned recently that when a person embarks on a changing path, they must be able to bend and lean and crease in ways they may have never understood. Akin to the masters of yoga, the bending and leaning and creasing become habitual until they morph into natural and become comfortable. The beauty that one can find if willing to truly listen to their inner tickings is plentiful. The clearing out of clutter and cobwebs is the real work.

Once the space is clear...the heart and mind will follow.