Katabatic wind, idiot wind, and so on

I recently stumbled down the weird rabbit hole of the Dyatlov Pass Incident,  which, in typical internet fashion, has attracted the attention of all sorts of conspiracy theorists and others trying to explain what happened, generally people who seem completely unfamiliar with Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation does seem to be the katabatic wind explanation, but that in itself is fairly harrowing, and not an explanation that is particularly reassuring. It does nicely fit the title of this blog, however, as well as having rich potential for metaphor. Some of the other words used are appealing somehow as well, such as williwaw, squamish wind, and piteraq. 

Anyway, the unfortunate adventurers killed in the Dyatlov Pass Incident were prepared. They just weren't ready for whatever happened. This is a perfect example of the crucial distinction between being prepared to the best of one's ability to be prepared, but just not being ready. I have been meditating on this distinction a lot as I prepare for my dissertation defense. The best we can do in life a lot of the time, especially under pressure or where it feels like a lot is at stake, is prepare. We still might not be ready, but at least we're prepared. This comes up for me as I practice the PowerPoint presentation that opens the defense. I have it well-prepared, and timed down to about 34 minutes, every time I practice it. But one never knows. One never knows. 

I am especially antsy about two of my committee members Skypeing in, one from Uruguay and the other from San Diego. If there is a serious technical difficulty with that, the defense has to be rescheduled, which would suck, especially since my oldest friend is flying in from New Jersey, etc. But one never knows. 

Anyway, the thought of camping somewhere already brutally cold but then having a 200 mph wind descend on one's campsite out of nowhere is the stuff of nightmares. I prepare really well for all of my contingencies while cam;ping. I have a lot of experience, and good gear. I try to be sensible. But so much of my field work in Baja was completely off the grid, and I was alone for a lot of it. Looking back, this approach was not ideal at all. In fact, I would not recommend it to myself, in the future. haha. As I arrange for more field work in remote locales, I will be subscribing to a satellite location and emergency notification system. Isla Magdalena, where I camped for days on end, is known for being infested with venomous rattlesnakes, for example. The possibility of falling was high, given the terrain. It was sort of idiotic of me to have spent so much time hiking alone there, let alone the run in with heat exhaustion I had that almost killed me (which is one of these blog posts, but I'm too lazy to go looking).

All of which ties into the great, bitter Bob Dylan song, Idiot Wind, one of my favorites. 



Which, in turn, ties in to a lot of the work I have been doing around self-compassion, kindness toward myself, a more gentle, awakened heart toward my own and others' shortcomings, real or imagined. I have been spending a lot of time with Pema Chödrön's When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times and Start Where You Are, and encountering a lot of facets of my mind, my narrative, and my heart that have proven to be challenging. Most of all, it has become apparent that I benefit from being more gentle, more patient, kinder and more compassionate, toward myself and others, as well as letting go of narrative and creating more space, more often. Meditation has been helping a lot. So much time utterly alone has been helpful, in spite of the sorrow, heartbreak, and tender core that gets touched when there's nothing to do and no distractions. Or, really, because of that, not in spite of it. 

I've been having great interactions with my old friend, The I Ching, over the past several weeks. Recently, things have been pointing to success, transition, good results after a lot of work, and other basically favorable directions, which is reassuring, considering the transition I am in. Last evening, the first hexagram was The Cauldron, sometimes called The Sacrificial Vessel, basically, a large bronze cauldron for creating lasting results for oneself and the world. The changing lines were line 2 and 3, with some appended remarks here from James DeKorne's Gnostic Book of Changes:

Line 2: 

A. The situation is favorable, but you must be on guard to maintain it.

B. Divisive forces covet that which is under your control, but cannot harm you if you are careful.


C. Your idea has merit. (A cauldron with food in it.) Develop it carefully and don't get carried away. (Protect it from the enemies of doubt, over-enthusiasm, etc.)

Line 3:

A. The dynamics of your situation have changed, but you are still operating on old assumptions and have missed the point or not gotten the message. However, the condition is temporary and will resolve itself naturally.


B. The image suggests a stalemate followed by eventual resolution.

Both of these messages definitely resonate. One of the difficulties I have navigating change is waking up to the change that has already occurred, as it is more typical for me to think conditions are the same as they used to be, not realizing sometimes the profound ways that change has set in until I can see it in the rear view mirror so to speak. The whole thing about waiting for things, which has really been a major theme of the past few years, has recently changed. I am no longer waiting for anything. What's done is done, and what is happening right now is all there is. I do often feel like I have missed the point or not gotten the message, however. Like there are huge forces at owrk that I just can't see clearly at all, much larger than my ability to put into proportion. Combined with all of these themes, a repeated message from the ethers has been this landscape of envy, covetousness, jealousy, outside threat to my situation. So this goes back to being as prepared as I can be, and letting readiness take care of itself, since who knows exactly how ready I am?

It reminds me of Peter 1:13: Therefore gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and rest your hope fully upon the grace that is to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. 

Which then reminds me of John 3:8: The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.

In the sense of simply being prepared. The idea of grace being a cosmic whim, unable to be earned or to be deserving of, but that doesn't mean we can't prepare to encounter it, in whatever form it takes. I have a feeling that there are a great many moments in my life when I have not been prepared, and grace arrived, and I had no idea that is what it was. On the other hand, there have been definite moments when the wind blew the right way, and I was prepared, and embraced the experience as deeply as I was able. Falling in love can be that way, and loss itself can also be that way. In particular, if I am able to let go of gain and loss as concept that I hold fast to, and if I can simply enter more into an awakened, kind, compassionate heart, the grace that might be otherwise hidden from me becomes more clear, sometimes. 

Sometimes. 

Weird that these themes are reminding me of my old Sunday school days, and fairly deep, definitely musty Christian background. I do credit Christianity with my earliest and most primal and inexplicable experiences of the awakened heart and mysterious nature of reality, though, so I guess it makes sense. 

There's a funny re-framing available through this lens of being prepared versus being ready. It occurred to me yesterday that, if I were to suddenly be offered *everything I think I want* or even everything I actually do want, I bet I would not be ready. Like a katabatic wind, that old williwaw of desires fulfilled would probably feel like it could kill me. How funny it is to be human and to think being ready is a prerequisite to saying YES. In fact, the best I can do is prepare, as much as I am able, and show up bravely in the face of the fear of not being ready, whenever possible.