Today is a typical April day in this part of the world.
Some very wet rain, a little watery sunshine, breath-taking winds, squally showers, bright spells and a couple of horrendous downpours. Everything that a body could need to dispel any seasonal blues that might be lurking around. The excitement and suspense of not knowing whether one is going to make it safely through the next hour without being soaked to the skin or, whether, the powers that be will smile benignly on the ant-like creatures scurrying about their oh-so-important business and spare them the ignominy of the drowned-rat masquerade.
It helps to be an optimist.
On with the running shoes and the dreaded raingear. Off with the ill-concealed pessism and reluctance. "We'll feel great afterwards" we mutter. Heads down, loins girded, we brace ourselves for whatever Nature can throw at us.
Character building.
I like the wind. Her noisy roar whispers seductively in my ear of immense power and incumbent humility. "My way or your way" she sings ... "Come dance with me..."
Three miles down the wild river bank we meet a lone walker braving the elements.
We regularly meet this man. He is always alone. Now. He used to have an old, far from handsome, dog that smiled. Just like the man.
Each time we meet, we exchange weather impressions, opinions on the state of the country, the world, and always wish each other well as we shuffle past. Today, he said, in passing, "Its like an orchestra out there .. the wind ... mother nature indulging her passions ... Do ye remember that story about the little blind boy that asked his dad ... what colour is the wind?"
All the time striding along. "Have a nice run, ladies".
This man, with a few sentences, lifted my heart, releasing my spirit to soar and swoop through a rainbow of wind. I wanted to sing, to shout, to roar my gratitude to his soul.
I can't explain why his words had such a profound effect on me.
I am just so very grateful to him for awakening my senses, for showing me the way to a different reality.
photo credit: www.digalist.com
