Harking the wind of impermanence howl. Howling for you, howling for me, howling for no one. Of that wind, we could say, it hardly ever leaves us. The howling is everywhere. In the woods, prairies, mountain slopes, at times roaming freely across the vastness of the desert, at times it arrests as you cross the street. On the water, it creates ripples and stirs waves that rage. In silence. You must have heard the wind move swiftly through silence. Sometimes howling within and

photo: lorelei loveridge For some reason, I came home from work, cooked dinner, fell asleep, and woke at 1 AM. Meditated after a bit and found myself remembering - daydreaming slightly as I was/am tired - in this meditation about our sits in the late afternoon as the Sierra de Monchique winds picked up. I remembered them howling as we sat. I remember looking across the floorboards in front of me aware of the sounds all around me. I remember the stillness of sitting there, shi