Life itself shaped me out of the winds, intricate pathways of movement, vibration, creating an illusion of substance that is me already. I know all about winds, I’m made up from them. So these winds outside me, do I recognise them now. How well can I be present to them, and myself. How humble in the face of my maker/matrix, faced with a little challenge, kindergarten from the standpoint of what life has done with them, a big challenge on this boat, simple vectors. Tricking the wind with the airfoil principle, same as the body, creating lift by creating a vacuum.
The mystery of living is in sailing, in understanding the wind, in reading correctly its direction and strength and potential — and skilfully setting the sails to take full advantage. Give and take, going the way the wind blows, or maintaining our course and reshaping its passage through the sail. The winds are all for free, blowing for everyone, take as much as you can. Outrageously magnanimous and fickle, the winds are the possibility of life, of movement, of sensation. How will we use them? That is up to us.
The possibility of moving starts here, with the wind. Nothing to be seen. We see its effects, but we don’t see the wind itself. We can feel it though. The skin experiences the wind, ruffling my hair, tossing it about, whipping it around, wanting to play, Can I possibly deny the desire of life to play intimately with me? Sending shivers of excitement — cool, warm, fresh, boisterous, silky, hairy, rough, woolly.
These intuitions into life and learning — and many more — are detailed in Dyana’s Anchors in an Open Sea trilogy, beginning with book 1: The Yoga of Sailing.
