"....and the winds long to play with your hair"

Mindfulness.

I would explain it to you but I'm listening to the clickety clack of the keyboard, noticing my breathing. The insistent sounds of the parakeets wing in from the porch. My heart is beating. My neck is turned to the right and I wonder why. The chair feels hard. Has it always felt hard? A car goes by. One car? Two?
Breathing in and out. Fingers moving, dancing up and down - so wise, they know who goes first and who follows next to make these words appear.

Mindfulness. Paying attention in the moment.

I took a walk today and decided to meditate in the moment, to pay attention right then. No sacred quiet place. No preparation. Just a walk.

My mind was incensed, insulted, and pouting. "Look at me, look at me" it insisted. "You and I have a lot to think about. Get with it."

But I was noticing the wind.

It was rushing against my face, singing that familiar wind song. I could tell that it was having a great time, waking us all up. Everything that normally stood stoic in its place was moving, dancing, swaying. Leaves twirled like sufi dancers on the ends of thin happy branches. Trees, plants, bushes, even street signs came to life.

I wondered if the universe used to wind to play. Did it blow through the garden just to see the happy dance it caused? Or was it there to remind us that we need to move sometimes, throw our arms into the air, join the twirly girls at the Grateful Dead concert and spin until we collapse in laughter on the ground?

I might have missed out on this glorious dance if I'd let my mind drag me off to the dungeon and ruminate.

Luckily, I remembered that I owed it to the wind to give it what it longed for.