The Way it Makes Me Feel

I love the wind. Always have. I like it blowing strongly, the stronger the better. It makes me feel powerful. Alive. A living being. In the moment. In the universe. Of this world.

I love it when it is so powerful that, when I'm leaning into it, it is holding me up. Arms out stretched. Let go. Balancing from the waist down.

I love the cool. I love the crisp.

I never understand people who say they don't like it. Ginger horses and all that. You know, there are so many people who talk about it like they have an aversion to it. Giddy like a drunk. Why? Because it messes up their hair, may be? Blows a little dust and we all know how we all hate messed hair and a little dust, now a days. Perception is more important than feeling.

I like the cool. I like the freshness. I like the cleanliness, of it. I like how it feels on my skin. I like the way it makes me feel all over. Tactile, rather than presentation.

Touch my skin. Feel.

Switch off.

I like my sheets to be cold and crisp when I get into my bed. The cool wind of the night. I like the cotton to be cool as it touches me. Bracing, cold, alive, invigorating. Wrap myself up crisp, for a night of rest, a cool slide into the dark, for a fresh tilt at snooze.

It makes me feel alive. I like the fact that is stops me from thinking and allows me to feel. Almost, a little meditation. Lay very still and feel the nerve ends tingle. Clear your mind.