One bright afternoon in Manly, I stood by the water and found myself watching the wind work. The sea was calm, the sky spotless, and a light breeze played around like it had nowhere in particular to be. Then a boat caught the wind, its sail filled, it leaned slightly, and began to move. Just like that.
You cannot catch the wind with your hands. You can wave, grab, or plead, but it slips right through. Yet stretch a bit of cloth in the right way, and the same wind will take you places. The trick is not strength, but alignment.
We do this in life all the time. We try to hold on to things we cannot. Control people. Plan every detail. Manage every outcome. All we end up doing is flapping about like a loose sail. The world moves anyway; the only choice we have is how we set ourselves to it.
The sailors made it look effortless. A tug on a rope here, a small turn of the wheel there, a quiet adjustment to the wind. They did not fight it; they worked with it. When the wind changed, they changed too. Calmly. In rhythm.
Lessons from the Shore
Perhaps that is what wisdom looks like. Knowing when to act and when to let the wind do its work.
And yes, there was a little competition too. You could see one sailor glance sideways at another, quietly comparing. Humans will be humans. Even grace comes with a touch of rivalry.
Standing on shore, I realised that the boats moving best were not the ones straining hardest. They were the ones that had learnt to work with the wind.
Maybe that is the real art of living. You cannot hold the wind. You can only understand it, trust it, and let it carry you forward.
