Suffer Less

We're having a very windy day here today. By early evening, just before sunset, there is fine dust infused in the air. When you look out over the valley the haze is obvious. As the sun lowers itself in the sky, the light gives color to the haze and also to the clouds above. The clouds started off confused this morning. It was mostly clear but there were these giant UFO shaped clouds thrown sporadically up high. Intermixed with them were the remnants of mare's tail clouds. Behind all of it was a matrix of leftovers. I imagine a single sheet of a cloud watered down then hit with a brush. There were squiggles and broad strokes and exploded contrails of planes making a great V across the sky. And, as has been the case for about a week now, there was the smoke coming from over the range from the wildfires of the Coronado Forests. Now, as the sun sets lower, the clouds have moved in in ernest. Great mountain ranges of clouds line the horizon. Mountains that are exploding on every other peak. Huge sections tossed hundreds of miles off of the main line. A natural disaster in the air that harms no one. All of it now colored orange with blue like a swimming pool above. The wind, being impatient and motivated to some private task has already change things around. Now there are grey rolling cotton balls shot through with silver. Almost a promise of moisture.

Strange feelings pop up in this turbulent weather. I become angry for no reason. Small piles of disorder up at DMU become symbols of a greater disorder. Without prompting, I mourn the loss of manufacturing jobs in America. I suddenly live in a land where we make nothing good yet consume all things regardless of their merit. The people in power are intelligent criminals living in a kind of twilight hell that they don't even know they're in. Or they just don't care. Ultimate form of ignorance. Cruelty refined. Worldly gods devouring their own bodies. Blind, deaf, and dumb. When did I plant the seed for this ugly fruit? How much bigger will it get? The wind, the dry earth blowing away, the smoke from fires unseen but close.

Windy days are always like this for me. It's good in that it really shows where my mind is. The gift of extremes. Despite the tone of the last paragraph I am more happy then I've been in a long time. Sort of in spite of myself. I really should be moping about upset and forlorn but it just won't stick. I think it is the result of what practice I have been able to do in the past four years. Mind training. Against my greatest effort, I suffer less.