Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Living with the Santa Ana




It's another spring day of glorious, sparkly light but the Santa Ana winds make me uneasy, nervous. I can hear them stirring the palms right outside my bedroom. There's a space between the rustle and the fall, a crack, a bird stops singing, a thump. I feel the winds inside, brushing against my stomach. Joan Didion said of the Santa Anas that the wind shows us how close to the edge we are, and I suppose there's some comfort in knowing that this element has a history to it and that little of it is under my control. I ceded control a long time ago -- somewhere around year six, I think, of Sophie's troubles -- and can't articulate exactly how I am, in fact, comforted rather than terrorized by that surrender. I am made of bone and tissue, sinew and fat and muscle but mainly water, the fluidity of chaos and the absurd. Today, I think that these winds that disrupt the palms are the outer version of the fluid inside. Like the palms, we are forced to let go, shed bits of ourselves, usually the dry and dead parts, but mostly we bend.

11 comments:

  1. Still working on ceding control...but getting better at it, since life has had other plans for me than the ones I made for myself.

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  2. Thank God for the times we are able to surrender and bend as I don't know how we would get through this life without that capacity. Your writing is just lovely. Sweet Jo

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  3. This is absolutely stunning dear. And so wise. THIS is what the blog world CAN be.

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  4. So well said, of course! You do have quite the way with words!

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  5. "Today, I think that these winds that disrupt the palms are the outer version of the fluid inside. Like the palms, we are forced to let go, shed bits of ourselves, usually the dry and dead parts, but mostly we bend."

    Yes.

    Thankyou, Elizabeth.

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  6. The minute I saw the title of your post I thought of Joan Didion. So funny that you quoted her too. I remember her writing about the nerve-wracking Santa Anas in "Slouching Towards Bethlehem."

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  7. Mesmerizing. I can feel those winds in your words. I love those heavy atmosphered winds. We got them in Colorado, sometimes. Not the Santa Anas, but the wind that made you feel like something was about to happen.

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  8. Trying to remember to let go as I continue my job search. It's strange, as a child I loved the Santa Anas - perhaps I was more trusting then.
    Gorgeous post, and I love the photo too.

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  9. I remember those winds well - and I never did get used to them

    now we have endless rain that I still haven't gotten used to

    seperate planets it would seem

    describing them as the outer version of the fluid inside reminds me of The Dune Chronicles somehow (a little sci-fi geekery)

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  10. I feel the same way about the violent windstorms we have here from time to time. There is something strangely comforting about hunkering down in my house and listening to the chaos outside that makes me feel as though I can be calm until it is over. I love your description and I love that you have ceded control and now can simply sit and observe.

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