Wind through the woods

Pete and I have just gotten back from a walk in the wind. Though it's tough to see the tips of the firs dancing, trust me on this one, they are doing a real jig-ggity-jig. The air is filled with freshness, needles from the trees rain down, sprinkle the sunflower butter on my toast, and the squirrel across the ravine is throwing pine cones off a 100 foot Tall One. The seasons have come and gone here on the Ledge. A new story is stirring up with makani (the wind) and the walk we took was just the sort of thing that records gratitude and appreciation where it needs to go.

In a stretch of one Earth's year, the wind plays through the Ledge on a regular basis. Our friend Mel has known this place most of his life and always notices when the winds have gone missing. It is this sort of noticing that influences the itch that the writer in me feels. The Japanese have a way of looking at this itch. They might call it saku-taku-no-ki.(click on that link for what author Jane Yolen has to say about this 'itch.') A mother hen taps on an egg. The chick taps from within. The moment the two tappings come together is "no ki." There is new life. I notice what a friend has noticed for a lifetime ... and with that a bit of a story takes on a life of its own.

That is what has happened over and over during the months we have lived here on the Ledge. The tale, fable, fairy tale called Wood Crafting that I share with our readers was born from the wind ... a timeless carrier of story. Today Pete and I took time to appreciate the place this wind has called home for a length of time into history. We have found one place on Earth where the modern nomad can find refuge on most days and nights, and when the winds return to sing through the trees this place is indeed a sacred portal into the EVER.

I was ready for a walk in the wind after working with no small degree of difficulty on a eulogy for our cousin. Her service will happen back on Oahu in early September. Pete and I will not be able to fly back to be with family and friends for that celebration. Instead, a few words I have strung together from this ledge in the woods will be spoken by yet another cousin. In my view the eulogy is a stringing together of lei (a garland) story. Solace and comfort come from being able to kokua (help) in this meaningful way. Finding the message from the muse for this assignment seemed difficult because I was trying to speak for all those who will be there, gathered on Oahu. Today, when the wind finally returned I realized the only words I could really share were the words that came from my heart. At least that's what I heard the wind say as it sang through the woods.