According to my mother, when I was a little boy playing by myself in our backyard, I would curse the wind. Because my father was a churchgoer and wouldn’t take God’s name in vain, I imitated him by shouting, “Gosh dang,” and waving my little arms.
I soon realized the wind was here to stay, a fact of life. When I started to fly and then give flight instruction, I learned and taught “crabbing” into the wind on downwind and “slipping” into the wind on final. Wind was a fact of flight. I always noted the windsock before taking off, while the quaking shades of green on the leaves of the trees kept me alert on landing because the tops of the leaves are darker than their underside.
Now I also watch the Weather Channel and get aviation weather reports.
As I became more Zen-like in my life, I realized flying in windy conditions keeps one in the present. But then flying should always keep one in the present.
I’ve never had a problem with breezes, be they the Chinook of the December Rockies or any cool breeze in August. Could they be the children of the wind?
I remember the song from the sixties, “Cast Your Fate to the Wind”. Looking back over my life, I think I’ve done that all too often.
I’ve worn contact lenses all my life; my eyes are more sensitive to dust or whatever else might be blowing in the wind, plus allergies. As a result, I still find myself cursing the wind on occasion, just as I find myself cursing many of life’s other little annoyances. Lisa tells me, “That’s not very Zen-like.” My reply: “I can’t always sit and meditate.”
I guess much of life is indeed “Blowing in the Wind” as Dylan said.