And the days continue to race by in the colours of sand, sea, and sunsets; melancholy, solitude, and wonder, highlighted with soaring moments of joy, lowlighted with structural and situational frustrations. I had another successful day at the dune--the final day, a completion of my basic training. The morning was somewhat uneventful; the wind was oddly absent despite the fact that the sun and heat had come earlier than usual, burning off the fog well before 10 o'clock. I practised front starts, back starts, and ground handling as the other students worked with Mario. I was the last one to leave the dune that day; I had been waiting patiently for my moment with the wind. Mario remarked on how well I had done in spite of the non-favourable weather conditions. He paused for a second and then added:
"But if we don't find these to be the ideal conditions, then I don't know where we will."
Soon after, the wind whispered in my ears and gestured for me to come play. I followed her lead with my glider, lifting her up gently and then began dancing with my brakes, risers, and hips. At one point, a gust came along and knocked me onto my back side. Instead of righting myself up again, I stayed there on the ground in the sand, laying under her as she pulled me forward again and again. I was completely mesmorised by the interaction and it was not until Mario ran over and collapsed my wing with his arms that I realised what was happening --- I was moments away from being swept off and over the towering dune; the wind speed had quickly rose much higher!
"I had to stop you," he told me, out of breath from running. The wind would have carried you away completely had I not."
"Can't you let it?" I pleaded, as my eyes stared off into the eastern skies. I already knew what his answer would be and yet, I nonetheless felt compelled to try. Sehnsucht overcame my entire being and I suddenly only longed to be taken wherever the wind would lead me into the dunes beyond.
The desert as I have seen it both in the Namib-Naukluft National Park and in Swakopmund contains what every desert should---vast, empty space, ephemeral water beds, mirages, heat which scorches the earth, wind which transforms it, and desert flowers which exist in spite of their unforgiving environment, affirming the wonder and beauty of life against a desolate backdrop.
As a desert wanderer, one cannot believe in every distant lake she sees, for the water which sparkles in the reflection of her wide, hopeful eyes could slowly fade away with each approaching step, like a sinister apparition diverting her attention from the sand beneath her feet. She has to understand that she cannot expose herself to the wind at every fleeting whim and that its habits often shift without warning. Behind every mountain made of sand that she climbs sits another, always beckoning to her and concealing behind it still others, ad infinitum. When she glances behind her, she finds that formerly summitted mountains have already changed, still recognisable, at the same time unfamiliar.
She carries on in solitude in the most inhospitable environment, burned by the sun directly overhead, without shade or shelter for refuge. But she holds herself well and with a joyful disposition. Despite illusion after crushing illusion of a water well to replenish her weather-worn spirit, she always manages to find one whenever she truly needs it. She knows this truth in her heart and so is able to tread lightly across the shifting earth free of apprehension or despondency.
She dances in dust devils and always pauses 20 seconds before the sun tucks behind the horizon, admiring the most brilliantly variegated sunsets. She endeavours to befriend all the desert's living creatures. Not all reciprocate her kindness but as the sky grows dark and the air becomes colder, she knows that she's protected. Nowhere else has she ever so clearly and intimately interacted with the forces of this earth, waxing and waning, rising and falling, being and transforming, to the beat of nature's breathing lungs. The desert is empty and yet it contains everything! She knows this and that is why she continues on her journey of discovery, in the hope that one day she will also come to understand her role in it.
"But if we don't find these to be the ideal conditions, then I don't know where we will."
Soon after, the wind whispered in my ears and gestured for me to come play. I followed her lead with my glider, lifting her up gently and then began dancing with my brakes, risers, and hips. At one point, a gust came along and knocked me onto my back side. Instead of righting myself up again, I stayed there on the ground in the sand, laying under her as she pulled me forward again and again. I was completely mesmorised by the interaction and it was not until Mario ran over and collapsed my wing with his arms that I realised what was happening --- I was moments away from being swept off and over the towering dune; the wind speed had quickly rose much higher!
"I had to stop you," he told me, out of breath from running. The wind would have carried you away completely had I not."
"Can't you let it?" I pleaded, as my eyes stared off into the eastern skies. I already knew what his answer would be and yet, I nonetheless felt compelled to try. Sehnsucht overcame my entire being and I suddenly only longed to be taken wherever the wind would lead me into the dunes beyond.
The desert as I have seen it both in the Namib-Naukluft National Park and in Swakopmund contains what every desert should---vast, empty space, ephemeral water beds, mirages, heat which scorches the earth, wind which transforms it, and desert flowers which exist in spite of their unforgiving environment, affirming the wonder and beauty of life against a desolate backdrop.
As a desert wanderer, one cannot believe in every distant lake she sees, for the water which sparkles in the reflection of her wide, hopeful eyes could slowly fade away with each approaching step, like a sinister apparition diverting her attention from the sand beneath her feet. She has to understand that she cannot expose herself to the wind at every fleeting whim and that its habits often shift without warning. Behind every mountain made of sand that she climbs sits another, always beckoning to her and concealing behind it still others, ad infinitum. When she glances behind her, she finds that formerly summitted mountains have already changed, still recognisable, at the same time unfamiliar.
She carries on in solitude in the most inhospitable environment, burned by the sun directly overhead, without shade or shelter for refuge. But she holds herself well and with a joyful disposition. Despite illusion after crushing illusion of a water well to replenish her weather-worn spirit, she always manages to find one whenever she truly needs it. She knows this truth in her heart and so is able to tread lightly across the shifting earth free of apprehension or despondency.
She dances in dust devils and always pauses 20 seconds before the sun tucks behind the horizon, admiring the most brilliantly variegated sunsets. She endeavours to befriend all the desert's living creatures. Not all reciprocate her kindness but as the sky grows dark and the air becomes colder, she knows that she's protected. Nowhere else has she ever so clearly and intimately interacted with the forces of this earth, waxing and waning, rising and falling, being and transforming, to the beat of nature's breathing lungs. The desert is empty and yet it contains everything! She knows this and that is why she continues on her journey of discovery, in the hope that one day she will also come to understand her role in it.
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