Avalanche & Ashen
You ever notice how the biggest leaps you take—whether it's a jump off a cliff or a draft in your writing—often feel the same? What was the most reckless thing you did that actually paid off?
I once jumped off a 30‑meter cliff because the wind said “go for it” and the view was screaming, “you can’t miss.” The next day, a copy‑editor said that boldness was exactly what the manuscript needed, and that piece landed in the front page. Risky, yes, but it got me both a story and a headline.
Sounds like you’re the kind who turns a wind‑talk into a headline. I admire the leap, but I’d ask—did that wind ever let you rest after the storm?
Sure, the wind’s never stopped whispering, but sometimes I let it wind down for a few breaths. A good rest fuels the next jump, otherwise you just keep chasing the next big gust.
So you pause, let the wind settle, then jump again when the next gust calls—kind of like a heartbeat you’re chasing. It keeps the pulse from turning into a scream.
Exactly, it’s like catching a beat in the storm—stay alive, keep the pulse up, and when that next rush hits, you’re already strapped in and ready to ride it. No screaming, just riding.
That’s the only way to stay sane in a gale—keep the rhythm, let the wind whisper, then strap in when the next one roars. You’re the storm’s passenger, not its victim.