“I am making friends with the Wind – who used to feel like an intruder rifling up my sleeves chasing debris down the tunnel She made of my street. But now I hear she’s howling for all that’s kept unfree. She whistles at gaps and rattles loose that which is inessential, raising in upward spirals things past their due, clearing the ground with her sharp, elbowing through. I am making friends with Change – who’s an agent of things not yet as they came to be. I’m making friends with the Clearing – not the eventual filling, but the pause before the hello when the Beloved picks up the other end of this phone. The moment so easy to miss – of Expectancy. The growing of something I myself must have once seeded. Yes, we are friends – the Wind and I – though she whips my hair into my mouth, slams doors and gives me a fright – but I just bundle myself well and meet her on the hill, make an offering of these leaves falling in their completeness, and let Her pull me off my feet So I may see further what is coming in on her distant, composing breezes.” ~by Dreamwork with Toko-pa