May you be strong enough to bear the bluster
The Cape Cod seashore in late spring tells a raucous tale of an ever-changing landscape. One day, the beach is all white sand and warm sun. The next, it's a riot of rocks, driftwood, shells, and seaweed. And then there’s the wind. Along with the moon and the ocean, the wind makes daily art on the beach, painting and repainting every night, designs to behold only in the moment, until the next tide rolls in.
As I stroll along the tide's edge and feel the breeze behind me, the popular Irish blessing comes to mind: "May the wind be at your back." I respect and appreciate its intent, that our journeys be easy and that events feel peaceful and predictable. But if the wind always blew the same direction, life would feel stale and uninspiring.
I do not want this beach to look the same from day to day. Joni Mitchell once compared our attachment to familiar favorites to running into Van Gogh and asking him to "paint Starry Night" again. Old favorite tunes provide a certain comfort, but new delights are lifeblood, and new challenges are the raw material of growth. There is room for more than one masterpiece.
At some point, the return home on this blustery beach will require me to walk face forward into the stiff breeze. Renewed gratitude wells up for the wisdom of yoga, with its mindful rigor and implicit blessing: may you face all directions of the wind with grace, compassion, fortitude, steadiness, and ease.
With love from New England,
Annie Moyer