Perfect weather for a bike ride . . .

February 25, 2018

Fear Not The Wind

When we decide to go, we all start the journey the same way.
We are each a tightly-woven tapestry of threads, 
neatly hemmed and sewn.

We're beautiful. 
Pristine . . . yet... incomplete.
We don't know ourselves.  
Not yet.

We are each run up, to the test.
To the breeze.  
To the wind.
Sometimes, to the gale.

Our ends become frayed; tested.
I wasn't strong enough to hold myself together.
I'm coming apart.
We're supposed to.
Fear not the wind.

In the toughest of challenges, we may be afraid to let others see what we're made of.
In the strongest of life's winds, we may be afraid to see ourselves for our individual threads.

The very sinew of our being is ripped, exposed, 
torn from its neighbor to flail and strain, 
on its own, against the forces which lash against it, unrelenting. 

The wind takes our souls apart.
Down to thread.
Down to bone.

Lashed to the mast or the line, we are tested.
Left naked to the coming squall line, we are measured.
Some of what we need is exposed.
All of what we don't is lost to the wind forever.

We look for enjoyment, only to find pain.
We saddle up for release, only to find more stress.
We seek definition - and we find it.
We need it.  
We are not alone.

The wind and weather just are.
Can you take it?
The wind always raises the bar.
Can't we fake it? 

Fear not the wind.
No, it will not always cool you.
No, it will not always favor you.
Yet, it does not judge you.
it only reveals what's already there.

As we struggle, the wind rips at our hearts and screams in our ears, 
and only a few of us can understand
what her tormented voice really tells us.

Drop your guard.
Let me see you.
Give me your threads, your fibers, your spirit.
Let go of what you're holding onto.
Let go of that which you didn't even realize you held, 
but knew, somehow, that you had to unravel.

We can't remain pristine.
We shouldn't strive to keep ourselves whole,
for often, the whole is flawed.
It isn't our fault.  
We were woven too tightly, too early.
We never held the needle.

People we can't name or recall
People who discolored those errant threads
People who didn't know the damage they spun
People who didn't know the tax they levied.

Fear not the wind
She does her work, 
whether we draft or face her alone.
We're not here by accident.
We chose this.

If your tears be from effort
If your tears be from pain
No-one but the wind will see them
Eyes down, grinding - they dry before they fall
The thread is ripped away, and never lights

At the end
Our flag looks tattered, wasted, thrashed, thread-bare.
Faded by sweat and sun
But it is complete.
It is more whole than when we'd begun
The journey is done
The flag is un-spun.

Fear not the wind.

A flag which once seemed uniform from afar
Now we see as tinted, single threads
We are not grey, or beige, or sand
We're a rainbow of emotion, rage, and pain.
We're a prism of friendships, handshakes, and nods.
We are everything.

Blue threads of truth, 
Noble purple character, 
Emerald green honesty, 
Crimson pure love,
Yellow rockets of joy, 
Pink tears of pain,
Jade waves of anguish,
Orange sparks of knowing.

Fear not the wind, for the wind fears not you.
It only seeks a worthy foe
It's not the ringer you've put you through.

The once tight weave of fabric is transparent.
Light can pass through.
Air can dance through.
I can see myself.
At last. 

We are more than the steps we take,
The tears we cry,
The miles we run,
The kilometers we climb.

We are what the wind makes us, 
not where the wind takes us.

Fear not the wind.

We can't always laugh into the wind; but sometimes we need to.

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