Wind in my Soul

I have a restless spirit. I possess an insatiable curiosity about what lies on the other side. An incurable wanderlust; a need to know, experience and learn about new places and people.

The wind drives this restlessness and makes my body a poor vessel for containing the bursting effervescent soul that yearns to be free to ride the wind to its end; to whisper in the treetops, flirt with hair and skirts, playfully skim across the waves as they march inexorably to shore, to chuckle among the rivers and brooks, to draw leaves out of their complaisence and make them dance, to whistle, scream and thunder around the plains, the golden grasses swaying like belly dancers to my whims. Sometimes I wish to be gentle, to caress the warm skin of an upturned face. Sometimes I wish to be strong, to usher in clouds and storms, to vent my anger or frustration and wreak a little havoc, to display my power.

As I stand in the wind, letting it blow through me, and around me, it sweeps me up on its journey. My soul dances, and aches to join the ride. I close my eyes and let myself be the wind in my soul.

And as the whimsical wind whips my hair and teases, my soul settles back in my body and grumbles. Oh, to be free!

Image vs. Reality

I always wonder about people who dress the way that faddish style dictates, even if they look stupid, ugly, ragged, fill-in-the-blank. I mean, just because some random fashion person decides that everyone needs to wear skirts that look like they were destroyed by a lawn mower, doesnt mean that 1) its pretty or 2) everyone looks nice in decomposing fashionwear.

So I have to wonder if people look in the mirror and are happy with the way they look in that ragamuffin skirt, or do they just see the image of the mannikin in the store looking back at them looking like the queen of the homeless?

I think people should be honest with themselves. Some body types are just NOT cut out for the fashions of today. Find nice clothes that you arent falling out of, or looking like a hippo with a glandular problem. Get pretty colors, that make your complexion glow, not washes you out or makes you look like a week-old corpse.

And to the fashion people, hey, congrats on leading millions of sheep to buy ugly, unfit clothing for themselves. The rest of us have to look at them, you know.

Cutlery Stuck in the Ground (aka Forks in the Road)

There is a poem, by Robert Frost (1874-1963), that I am posting on this blog. It is one of my collection of poems that I love. It spoke to me way back in 10th grade when I was first introduced to American Literature, and has always been part of the script on my inner monologue.

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.


Often have I stood at a crossroads, listening to the voices in the wind, God blowing in my ear, and the silences of my heart for guidance as to which path to tread upon. Some choices have yielded a smoother, more scenic route through life, and some a treacherous path filled with hidden dangers and pitfalls to catch the unwary. I am ashamed to admit that sometimes I was taken in by these traps and forced to endure detours on the journey just to attain the place where I strayed and from there continue on my designated path.

But life is like that.

I seem to be standing at those bedamned crossroads more often recently and I am getting tired of scratching "I Wuz Here" on the signpost every year or two.

Suddenly, the terrain has become more complicated - more 3 dimensional. Not only is this a life path, its also a career decision based on future goals. Or a life decision based on career goals. Or a decision on what to eat for breakfast based on what I will be in the mood for dinner in September.

I'm so frustrated with the choosing. The variables have gotten complicated.

I have always been a "road less traveled" person. I'm not one to follow fads, styles and whatever everyone else is doing. I'm not a sheep. I like to do things my way, that make me happy, even if its against social norms or what "everyone else" does. I simply don't care about Them.

In choosing the road less traveled, I have in many ways enriched my life. Experienced things that people only dream about, if they can comprehend them at all. But I have also chosen a lonely path. Not many people are willing to fight through bramble or bushwhack through the tall grasses. I meet other people at crossroads as well. And their paths are equally as interesting to me as my own.

So I am back to being alone, and on this complicated, twisty path. I better go find my hiking boots. I think I'm gonna need them.