Haibun: Monsoon Winds
When it is over one hundred degrees and the wind starts to blow hard, we all assume a monsoon is brewing. It could be calm, low hundreds when the first wind gust goes through: sand in the eyes, quickly in the eighties and anything that could be blown is moved. Sometimes the monsoon announces itself with a sudden door slamming shut.
So often I talk about change in these posts. But so much of change’s effects happen because of the speed of change. A slow change sometimes goes unnoticed. It can be so slow it just becomes, adaptation just happens and no thought is given.
But sudden change; the wind of the monsoon slams the door shut and the bang is piercing. In another metaphor, he is bringing her to their spot to propose but she says she’s been cheating on him on the drive there. The suddenness, the slamming, the impact, it all happens instantly and we are each left numb. I think the body freezes to give time so you or I can make sense of what just happened and if we are safe or not.
When the feeling starts to come back to the body, I feel through from head to toe to make sure I wasn’t injured in the suddenness. I feel through all the memories before I get permission to let my heart start to rest a little.
But with each second that goes on past the moment, each minute that turns into days, weeks, then forgetting the suddenness of the change, things return to normal. Change still happens, but so slowly. Life ends up the slowness of unnoticed pounds gained over years or the blurring of memories through the years—invisibly inching forward. Healed or unhealed, we forget the sudden impact of change because routine becomes the new normal because slow is the new pace in which we need to deal with now.
calm waters attune
then every branch’s strewn, monsoon
summers after june
