Monday, February 28, 2011

Wind Through Wood

One of the best moments I had on this last trip to Korea was early Lunar New Year's morning walking away from the beach hotel and up into the dried yellow grass of a small forest mountain temple.
I was the only one there and got to sit and look out over the ocean and feel the wind on my face through the trees.
I have many moments like this where I am completely alone in the world, where there is no one but me and my thoughts drifting along and alone away from the mass movement of the people around me.
I stepped inside and sat for quite some time as the floorboards creaked and the hanging lanterns swayed back and forth from the heavy wind that passed through the wooden cracks.
There is this moment in Walden when Henry David talks about the wind through wood, the dripping rain onto the floor, the sunlight passing through the wall in little shards of day and night. All because wood does not fit together with other wood.
Instead it bends and twists and knots to its own design, its own cut, its own will. Much like the people in our lives we want to be closer to but who shrink and warp and bend away.
I think about that a great deal when I am alone. Wood makes me think of people. All the air between us, that I can only feel but never hold.

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