The West Wind

Wake-up feel: 6.

I woke at 03:43. The head awake first, then the birds. By 03:55 the body needed to move.

Up, out, into the swimming pond. The water cold.

The air was fresh after the night's thunderstorm — new air had moved in, ionized.

Exercises. Then the road.

The winding road: the Bodden and the reed fields to the left, the ripening rapeseed and the rising sun to the right. Blue sky.

Before I reached the road's threshold, behind me somewhere, the cuckoo called.

The tears started then. They did not stop.

The west wind pushed east. Or testing me. A tree rattled its leaves. To the right, something moved through the rapeseed and the bushes, as if it followed.

Near the turning point, in the bush to my right, a roe buck barked. I acknowledged it, and turned back toward Nisdorf.

Leaf this morning. Near two the Moon crosses into Aries, and Leaf turns to Fruit — the water giving over to fire. On this coast the two have always sat at the edges of a day — the Bodden that took the old offerings, the sun the body still turns to at dawn. The turn from one to the other is older than anyone walking it. The land turns the same way I am turning — out of the watery months, toward the fruit and the fire.

I walked. I cried. I came back the way I went out.

Seven places were on the table. The number was never the question. Now I am listening, the direction has been read. I am here to serve, with. The needs of the people who have been close to me all these years belong in this too.

Day 77 — Phase 11 — Thought — Gallbladder — Onyx — Ubuntu
Gut Nisdorf, Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, Baltic Coast
© 2025–2026 Michel Garand | A Pilgrim's Fitness Plan | CC BY-SA 4.0
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