The Wind

Funny how the wind can take it out of you. I woke up this morning, my windows blown wide open; swaying trees beckoning. I could almost hear the waves crashing against the seawall, compelling me to witness the creative forces of nature. I ate a quick breakfast and headed out. It was enough, as they say, to take your breath away. All senses ignited: seagulls calling, laughing, rejoicing; rocks tumbling underneath as waves sorted and tumbled; salty brine in the air, on my face, in my lungs; wind, pushing, pulling, pure, unadulterated play making: rough and tumble kids, searching out every nook and cranny, seeking adventure. And sights! The multihued blues of the ocean: steel grey, aqua, teal, midnight, cerulean, sapphire, deep purple and ultramarine; capped with snowy froths, a waving, rollicking sea of grapes and blueberries and plums, crushed and slurping in a wine makers heaven. I want to drink it all and gloriously suffer the consequences yet the wind restrains me. I push against it, forcing my way forward as its forces it way back into me, ‘neath scarves and collars, zippers and flaps. I want to go forward, isn’t that what we do? Move forward, push through, consequences be damned?

I had a dream the other night. I was fighting with the Grim Reaper. We were in this mountainous region of huge granite cliffs and boulders, towering peaks and unimaginable abysses. It was like being in an ancient Chinese water colour where rugged terrain holds vast beauty, grey green mists, leafy trees tenuously holding on to their rocky mantle and perhaps a butterfly, easily floating above the canyons below. The Grim Reaper wanted me to let go of the rock I was desperately holding onto. He was pushing me off so I would fall, perhaps ever more through the chasm below, perhaps to my death. I was petrified yet I knew that no one, especially I, could defeat this portent. My fate seemed sealed, yet the method, I realized, was yet to be determined. Shall I be pushed to death or shall I go on my own? Pride made me favour the latter and the decision to let go of the rock became my new foe. Just let go, I said, just let go. The hardest part is letting go. But I held on, fear keeping me strong in its grip. Then a distraction came: some men were fighting over on a near by cliff and the Grim Reaper, hearing duty call, scooted over. As soon as he left, the ground closed up beneath me and the abyss was no more. I was safe.

I woke up from this dream, some what disgruntled. Why cant I ever let go? All I had to do was let go and be free. I knew the imagery of death was but symbolic of change, rebirth; new beginnings. Why was I so scared? But then another question came to me, why must I always go for the extreme? Does change always have to be so drastic? Do I always have to force through making life and death decisions; pushing against the forces of nature? Struggling?

Codependence can be a lot like the initial part of this dream in terms of perceiving life as a constant struggle; one of defending rigid boundaries to the death and being for ever on guard. Stillness, allowing and just being are foreign words to our codependent parts. These words denote flexibility and gentleness; acceptance and openness. In my dream I eventually chose to be still, to not struggle nor let go. I chose the middle ground of just being and the ground beneath closed up, encompassing me in calm.

This morning, after fighting the wind for awhile, I realized that life doesn’t have to be that hard. I turned around and let the force propel me (with ease) in another direction.