Lately I have been blessed to have a little more time to really take advantage of all that my Hawaiian island home has to offer as far as outdoor adventures go. Whether it be hiking, swimming, biking, tennis, kayaking, or “surfing,” * and yes, I DID place surfing in quotation marks on purpose! * …one would be hard-pressed to find me anywhere other than enjoying one of these pono-producing pastimes.
As I have a slightly * ahem * low tolerance for the routinely mundane, monotonous things of this life …you know…like laundry, going to the grocery store, changing the oil in my car, taking out the trash, etc…it is probably not surprising that I like to “mix it up” in regards to the specific exercise that I choose to incorporate into my daily routine. For example, a ridge-roaming hike will be followed the next day by a blissful bike ride to my favorite seaside spot. The successive days three and four will include some sort of hand-eye coordination sport such as tennis, “surfing,” * yep! Still got ‘em folks! *… or volleyball (I just so happen to know of a particular fire station that has a rousing game every Sunday that I tend to barge in upon on a regular basis J ). This variety of options is one of the main reasons I chose to make Hawaii my home in the first place. It suits this restless, adventure-seeking, rambling rose quite well.
This past week in particular, when going about my daily excursions, I have noticed one main recurring theme/ idea that has been marinating in my mind. The concept of wind—specifically of how dramatically different I perceive this natural phenomenon as becoming, when placed within the context of each separate category of leisure that I happen to be participating in at that specific time.
When I think about it, it really is amazing the dramatic metamorphosis wind undergoes * in my mind at least * when merely transferred between sports. For instance, when I am biking, and the wind is at my back…I feel alive—bada**!—like nothing in the world can stop me!—propelled forward—Superman bullet-esque! HOWEVER, when the wind is against me…I sense the whole world is against me. I feel dead—simply “like” A**!—defeated, beaten down, bullied backwards—like I have been SHOT by the speeding bullet. Quite a difference to say the least~
While hiking, as I ascend rocky ledges, I feel, not resistance, but rather refreshment being offered to me by the rustling wind. Along my way, it stirs a breathy breeze—one that alights upon my brow, bringing me comfort and beckoning me forward—upward on my path. The summit supplies great gusts, swirling and whipping my hair…reminding me of how small I am, and how big the beautiful sky and earth dancing around me, are in comparison. I am engulfed by the wind on my hikes—they trap me in time—awaken to me how very little of it I have left—remind me how very much of it I have already wasted—and serve to open my heart to the priceless value given to that which remains~
Tennis belongs to the “anti-wind camp” as well. As one tries to manipulate the bouncy yellow ball—relegating it to the confines of the small white boxes * boxes, I might add, which appear more miniscule in proportion to the skill of each particular player, it seems, most days *…the wind can only serve to frustrate, tamper with and tyrannize all the Andre Agassis of the world~
Swimming seems to be one of the only wind-neutral sports in which I participate. When I am swimming, I am surrounded by silence. This impenetrable peace and quiet of my nautical bubble represents pure bliss to me. Ensconced within the ocean—the wind is dead to me…the world is dead to me…but I, I am alive—more alive than I have ever been—or at least this is how it feels. The wind has no jurisdiction here in my harmonious haven. No sound…no interference…nothingness…embraced—enveloped—inside a world all my own—I swim in my isolation tank—alone in my thoughts—unaffected by all outside forces, sights, sounds, or even beings. No wind can touch me here. I am encapsulated in isolation, surrounded by safety~
The list could go on and on….but ponopeople, you get the idea…wind is a powerful “force to be reckoned with”…. OR IS IT? I have begun today to ask myself the question, “What if it is just a force…*period*?”~
Whether it be coming directly towards me, blowing benignly upon my back, accompanying me up the face of a mountain, shifting and surging as I am sent scrambling on a clay court, or even if it is not present at all…wind is simply that— WIND. Not hostile by nature, wind is no respecter of persons. It has no agenda or plot for vengeance to reek upon any particular individual as far as I am aware. When the wind howls and crosses my path, causing me to exert more effort, or when it is helping me along my way with ease, or even as it is forcing me to realize that my stratagem on the court is not enough of a match for it to “save my game”—I have to remind myself that * no matter how it FEELS, * this appearance/ presence of wind is not a personal affront. It is not vexed by some grievance unbeknown to me. I have not committed some sin to bring about its fury. * It’s Just Wind *…a natural occurrence coming in cycles, and stages, and not necessarily with warning.
Wind and Life do not seem to be that different to me. This idea is what has filled my heart and mind most today. Life—coming in seasons—seasons of sadness or pain, when we feel hostility—is also nothing personal—no punishment for indiscretion here—simply a season. In seasons of happiness—when we feel overwhelmed by joy—not particularly arriving in our midst due to some divine or deserving act—simply a season. Seasons of numbness, when we feel nothing—not because we have done something (or even nothing?)—is, still…simply a season.
There are deaths, there are births, there are moments of overwhelming joy…only to be followed by what seem like hours of such sadness that the weight of them are crushing.
LIFE if like this~
Wind is like this~
Life is like Wind~
