Stories of the wind | Dare Boldly

The wind picked up the seed and said, “You don’t belong stuck in the ground. Come fly with me and I will show you the wonders of the world.”

The seed planted itself back into the ground and said, “I grow best where I am planted. This is where I belong.”

Sometimes, okay most times, when I create I don’t have a ‘destination’. I simply feel the calling of something wanting to be expressed, and I go with the flow of expression until what was yearning to be brought into the world takes form in the light of creativity unleashed.

Regardless of my beginning intention, by the time I’ve drained the story of a piece, the words to express whatever has been called into creation appear. Without thought. Without effort. Without planning.

Oh sure, sometimes, (ok most times — I am a bit of a control freak, aka perfectionist at heart…) I work them out to be more poetic, to have better ‘flow’, but the original thought that was germinated throughout the creative process is always there. Planted firmly in the fertile soils of soulful creative expression.

I am grateful for the soft moments where light filters through the cracks. The gentle breezes that lift my imagination and carry me into story-lands that can only exist when I let go of thinking I know life and all its mysteries.

I am grateful for snow-filled, wintery mornings. The soft sibilant, barely audible hiss of traffic on the bridge outside my window. The sweet early morning quiet of dawn’s slow light edging into the dark.

I am grateful for moments like these and all the mysteries and wonders that flow so freely throughout my world.

The view from where I type.

Perhaps it was the lateness of the night, or the dancing under the stars, or even the wine, but when New Year’s Day arose with the sun, we agreed there was nothing we would rather do than spend a lazy day by the pool.

With its view of the ocean through the swaying palms, the pool at Villas Fa-Sol calls to the spirit to come relax on a lounger and rest in the shade of its deck. The pool that called to us yesterday, however, was filed with the generosity of the owners of Fa-Sol to come and spend the day at their home. Sabah, as it is called, is perched on top of the hill beyond Fa-Sol, at the edge of the ridge over-looking the vast Pacific Ocean.

Like Fa-Sol, Sabah is inspired by the architecture of Ancient Greece. Pristine white walls, domed azure blue cupolas, white marble floors and splashes of brilliant blue glass walls to divide the kitchen area from the rest of the house.

The pool here is a vast expanse of peacock blue tiles marching out towards the edge of the ridge seeming to flow out into infinity. From the far edge of the pool, there is nothing to interrupt the view. Nothing. Just space filled with the vastness of the ocean flowing out towards distant, unseen lands.

Surrounding the pool deck there are palm trees and azalea bushes. A grove of banana trees in bloom. Giant cacti and yellow flowering bushes stretching out to fill in any spaces between the opulence of the verdant vegetation.

The air is rich with warmth and moisture. The sea breeze pushes into the land, bending the mighty palms that sway back and forth like giant fans swooshing through the air above.

Lying on my back, drifting effortlessly on the surface of the water, listening to the rustle of the palm trees above me, I imagine they are gathering the stories of the wind. Breathing in the richness and vitality of its tales of lands and people in far off places. The palms bend their heads and nod with delight at the juicy morsels the wind whispers into their branches. And the wind keeps bringing its stories. And the palms keep swaying with delight.

These are stories of dark and stormy nights, of lovers caught on windswept beaches chasing after the one’s who got away, falling into the arms of the one’s who captured their hearts. Of knights in shining armor riding on prancing white stallions and maidens in glittering robes supine on beds of roses. There is wine and laughter, sorrow and joy, mystery and magic and murder and mayhem in the wind’s stories. And the palms listen and nod and stay silent as they gather the stories that rustle through their leaves like a thousand candles flickering in the night.

And the wind whispers on, its secrets safe within their branches.

We spent the day beneath the whispering wind and swaying palms. C.C.slept in one of the hammocks strung between two trees as I lay on a lounge chair, read and napped and occasionally slipped into the cool inviting waters of the pool that stretched out into infinity. Above us, hawks and pelicans and ‘Pilote’ (a cousin of the vulture) swooped and glided and drifted on the wind.

And the blue sky stretched out to meet the sea far beyond the horizon. And the first day of 2017 stretched out with grace and ease, filled with promise and possibility.

It was a day to savour each moment slipping into the next as the New Year welcomed earth’s journey around the sun.

And the sun and moon and stars held their places in the universe and the world kept turning and the waters ebbed in and the waters flowed out and the palm trees swayed and the wind whispered its stories into their branches.

“Do not rush my little ones,” it seemed to say. “Rest. Breathe. There is no place to be but here beneath the sun. There is no rush. Time moves at the same pace, no matter how fast you run. The journey of life continues at its own pace, with or without your acceptance. Rest awhile. There is no need to rush. All is as it should be here beneath the sun.”

And the sun shone and the winds blew and the palm trees swayed and the sea flowed as we rested at the edge of infinity.

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With special thanks to Guillermo and Rosio for their gracious hospitality and Andrew and Ursula for their deep and enduring friendship.
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