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  • Wendy Robertson Fyfe

A Pilgrimage; Listening To The Voices Of The Winds, Part 2 of 6 The Winds in the Firth of The Fort



At this Autumn time of year in the Northern Hemisphere, I keep my bedroom big window open at night as long as l can until it gets too cold. It helps me breathe in wild air whilst listening to the songs of night. This morning as my awareness stirs, and: "In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake, coming back to this life from the other more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world where everything began, there is a small opening into the new day which closes the moment you begin your plans." (from David Whyte, What To Remember When Waking), l notice a soft breeze gently touching my face as l listen to dawn songs of waves on the incoming tide with two blackbirds in a call and response conversation. It is not something l've experienced in the seven and half years here. It is sensationally stunning feeling the breeze on my face, caressing me; caressing me again, and again as l lie there, still, opening to deep intimacy. So subtle. l am touched deeply, cracked again in wonder. It's as if the very wind is joining in our conversation, is present. This kind of experience cannot be 'made up' or 'figured-out' or 'planned'. It is always a gift, unbidden; a surprise and, yet, in a healthy nature-based culture, normal.


The breezes at dawn have secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep! You must ask for what you really want. Don’t go back to sleep! People are going back and forth across the doorsill where the two worlds touch. The door is round and open. Don’t go back to sleep.

Rumi


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