We like to think we’re in control of things — especially when they’re going well.
But as ol’ Bill wrote, “We are but a feather for each wind that blows.“
When a chinook of change rips across the prairie of Life, plucking us from our steady path to dance with Fortuna and Discordia for a time, there isn’t much we can do about it.
By the time we settle back down to ground, Life has changed.
Often, we have changed too.
Many people busy themselves trying to stay rooted to the ground — to steel their future against fickle flaws of fate.
Have you ever watched a swallow bursting its little heart flapping against a gale?
It never lasts long.
When those winds wail through, there isn’t much else we can do but let go, spread our arms, and hope that where we come to rest the sun is shining.