"I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with the nonhuman world and somehow survives...Paradox and bedrock."-Edward Abbey

21 February 2012

Wind-Day

My wind-chimes sing in a cacophonic symphony as gales banshee howl down from the high peaks of the Roof of the World. Tibetan bluster in my own land furthest west, like Morocco. A girl in a carnival mask once told me we all have our own Africas, much like my concept of Kashmir; one's place in the world. Home. Perhaps it's funny, or at least interesting, that my Africa, my Kashmir, is in its own Sahel, far and away from the Mother Land. Although, there are those who would say this is an example of a paradoxical nature I supposedly have.

That girl in the mask? I about wanted to marry her for that bit of prophecy, but perhaps we were both drinking, and maybe even to excess, at the time, although I've always found that a chickenshit excuse. It would later play out it was just her mask talking, not her. Aside from that, she lacked the fortitude to contemplate whiskey with me, but that's another story.

This is a day I normally go on walkabout if the meteorological omens all line up. Having gales that blow with the intensity of a maelstrom, I find myself not so inclined. Out in the Backcountry, the avalanche danger is so stupid-high a mere sneeze could prove fatal, and finding out the exact limits of my mortality does not sound amusing, despite the itch to go wandering.

With a resigned sigh and big gulp of tea, I realize I'll be holing up for the day. The sky is deceptively clear, but that otherworldly choir of wind and watching the trees and my prayer flags sway reminds me of why I've not bothered getting my pack ready. There are documentaries I can stream and the latest issue of National Geographic arrived in the post, making this my favorite day of the month, despite the bluster. I reconcile there will be other days, when the meteorological omens will line up in a more conducive manner. It will be those days I'll be out walking, and a message can be left at the beep.      

6 comments:

  1. "...it was just her mask talking, not her." Luckily then you were saved from a hopeless marriage--and it doesn't bear thinking that she couldn't ponder the subtleties in a fine glass of whiskey.

    Home. A concept to me at the moment, not a reality. I'm hopeful though that I'll be able to find my own Africa in the near future.

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    1. It was amusing to see her try...poor thing. I'll have to tell that story someday.

      I hope you do too. You'll know it when it happens.

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  2. I hear stories in the wind often...wisps of other lives. And darling, whiskey is essential in the evolution of the soul, is it not?

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    1. I sometimes refer to whiskey as medicine.

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  3. I love it when a bit of wisdom comes unexpectedly from such a random source. A customer of mine with special needs comes to mind. He's never been accused of being very bright, but he once told me, "Just because the box is blue doesn't mean it's blueberry."
    Wise words...

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    1. That's one of the most enlightened thing I've heard in a long time.

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