Thanks to my first true friend Grasmaand, for the last twenty years; as I have moved from industry to industry, I have carried the image of a Tibetan windhorse with me from one venture to another.
Hard work, relationships and creative output have never gotten me where I wanted to go; it’s always been a windhorse that carried me someplace else.
Strangely enough, the destination was never a place where I intended a go; it’s just a place I ended up.
A windhorse is not a strategy, it’s not a relationship, it’s not a routine, it’s not a drug; it’s any of the above; it’s what you ride that takes you to a place where you didn’t know you wanted to be.
It’s vague I know. You won’t get it until you’ve ridden one, and unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at things, you simply can’t mount a windhorse and go someplace you didn’t know you wanted to be. Sorry, it doesn’t seem to work that way.
A windhorse can only be ridden once; everyone rides at least one; and the only way you will ever find yours is through reflection.
Then it’s all useless and senseless you say. Not really. You can’t ride very far unless you’re prepared, and that’s the point.
I’m certain you will recall the image of the windhorse every time you dismount one. Moreover, everyone you pass this intangible conundrum onto will be tagged with the same indefinite combination of uncertainly and imminent contentment. Oh well.
If you think I am kidding, try forgetting the windhorse. You can’t and you won’t.
Windhorses on Wikipedia
about Bruce Warila