After the long spell of sunny days, I am writing this on a blustery wet morning. And it has set me thinking about the wind. The wind, like light, profoundly affects the way the landscape presents itself to us. I am frequently enchanted by dwelling in its presence. Watching its play with the world around it.

Some scenarios from this week particularly stand out for me. One day I attended a workshop in a fine Victorian building with an extensive garden, surrounded by mature trees and giving glimpses of the nearby beach and sea. I spent a couple of tea breaks outside, sitting on large worn stone steps, enjoying this beautiful setting. And in particular

the play of sun and wind with the trees, bushes and plants. I was particularly struck by a large patch of long stemmed daisies in a wild part of the lawn. The gusts of wind were strong that day and evoked a wild swaying dance with daisies bending and jumping in all directions. But in the times when the wind dropped, they instantly returned to their innate stillness, with hardly a movement among them. Each standing proud, yellow eyed, white fringed faces to the sun. Peaceful. I sat mesmerised by Nature's wondrous choreography and beauty. I wrote a poem to the daisies, noting their 'ease and grace'... 'living a life in Nature's flow'.

Earlier in the week I had been on the beach at low tide, with a big expanse of sand exposed. It was again a blustery day. And the conditions were such that the strong gusts of wind caught the top layer of fine sand and sent it dancing in long converging lines across the surface of the wetter sand below. A brief phenomena, all returning to stillness a moment later. It was magical.

The wind too powers the movement of the waves. One of my favourite sights, when all the different elements align, is large waves crashing towards the shore with a huge plume of sunlit spray adorning them.

So what of our internal landscape? And the winds that blow there? Sometimes I feel 'knocked off my feet' ...disorientated... bewildered... by the strength of the gusts of emotions and sensations. It can feel difficult to know how to 'regain my footing'. And yet, like the clouds moving through the sky, we know that our feelings too will pass by... carried away by the wind of change. And that we will regain more inner calm.

Many traditions describe the 'inner stillness' of the human condition, and how our sense of this can evade us in our busy lives. Dwelling with nature as in my stories above, or with something else in our external environment, or with our breath, can all help us (re)connect with this inner essence of peace and stillness. Even in gusty weather. Choosing to be 'mindful' is a profound act of self-kindness.

This week's self-kindness invitation is to bring a gentle awareness to any moments of 'gusty internal weather', noting how your inner landscape looks /feels/sounds, and to respond with as much self-kindness and compassion as you can. You may then choose to focus on a breath or two, or on something in your outer environment, to help restore a sense of balance and stillness. Remembering perhaps, that in any given moment, we are always 'doing our best' amidst the swirling winds that characterise our being human.

Go well.

In warmth and kindness

Barbara