The wind outside rattles and rails against the walls of my studio trying, in vain, to huff-puff them down around me. A warm light settles over the bits of inspiration I’ve curated in this space. I know I’m safe here.

Some adventures never leave the planning stage…

ADVENTURE ART CLUB | DAY 25 | 9.25

MY STUDIO

MONTANA

I had plans to take you to a secret place today, one set along the banks of The Bitterroot River. I looked forward to traipsing through the tangled trees to find the sanctuary I discovered here. I wanted to trail my fingers in the cool water, soak in the silence, and tell you all about the sense of calm I find there.

Today, however, the wind has other plans for us…

What kind of adventure can be found when the world howls all around?

Perhaps this thrill of living can find us in the stillness at the center of a storm.

A storm has crept up this afternoon, resulting in wind gusts that are so strong they shake the walls of my very solid home. I think to myself, this is no kind of weather to be standing under trees by the river. Slowly, I let my plans for outdoor adventuring drift away in an imaginary current… I’m not going anywhere.

This rootedness in place in the center of a storm calls to mind the feeling of cozy nights spent indoors deep in the Winter seasons of my past. A crackling fire may light the space, or perhaps a candle with a piney scent. The warmth I feel here could also be that of low light bulbs chosen particularly to reflect a softer sort of glow. (I am not a “big light” person). Whatever source lights the way, on days like these, the dissonance between the cold violence outside and the calm oasis inside can be felt throughout one’s very core. It’s visceral.

This sleepy sort of feeling, that is somewhat intoxicating, comes with a feeling of gratitude as well. This relief grows from the knowledge that, whatever may be going on out there, we are safe and warm, right here, in the center of things.

I’ve felt this sense of refuge before in a fabric tent as the rain pelted the side of my temporary home in the mountains. I’ve felt this on a getaway in a cabin with friends while sitting and talking next to a roaring fire. I’ve felt this in my own home as the wind blows and blows, unable to reach me or the people I love. It’s cozy.

This very particular sense of calm only comes within some form of shelter while withstanding some kind of great force for a time. An ending is implied. We know the world will be right again, eventually.

Perhaps one feels a sense of one’s very vulnerability in these moments... Were it not for our home (temporary or no), we would be subject to the mercy of these elements. So many are..…

When looking out through panes of glass, we know how close we are to living an entirely different kind of life - a life of danger and discomfort in the heart of these storms. “But for the grace of god, go I”, as some would say…

The knowledge that we aren’t “out there” allows for gratitude to permeate. We think “thank goodness I’m not out in that”, and settle even deeper into the soft down of our nests. We burrow deeper, and think “I’m not going out there”.

Then, of course, the urge to experience the power of nature (from a safe distance) often leads us to the window’s edge to peek out at the wreckage. We get enjoyment from the feeling of being so close and yet so far from something so powerful.

Today, as the wind beats against the walls of my studio, a refuge from all sorts of storms in life, I’m thinking of all the beings out there…without shelter…even as I feel immense gratitude for this space to call my own. I hope they too can find a place of safety.

In that spirit, I set my pen to paper and draw a tiny home in the center of a gale.

Warm light emanates from one window within this oasis. Hope. We cannot see the occupants, but we know they must be safe inside.

Today, we learned that another facet of adventures are the days spend “snowed in”, in this case by the wind. Often called “a loss”, they’re important nonetheless.

Love & Gratitude,

Christina

The Wind

The Hillside