Oh boy do I love me a good windy day. Lemme give you a little sensory detail from this week’s blustery afternoon. I walk from one still building to the next, a short 20 ft, tops. Whilst in transit, I am engulfed by wind that has as little direction as the coeds around me who have just changed their major for the 3rd time. I’m up to my ankles in a constant undercurrent of leaves rotating in a haphazard flipping and flopping and flailing and flinging acrobatic motion, painted with colors more vibrant than Behr. Then the wind moves up in a flurry swirling around my body until it fills my hair with dynamic life! It’s one of the most helpless feelings. One of the most relaxing. One of the most empowering. The wind moves through with such urgency and leaves me with such vitality. I think reflection means there doesn't have to be a conclusion. Add to this experience a poufy bright red jacket playing the role of a parachute, catching the conviction of the wind, and taking me backwards until I pivot around into my most aerodynamic shape. No big deal, but I spend the rest of the day painted with a frazzled smile and nobody knows why . . . .
