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As the years passed and I became more deeply immersed in my human life, I communicated less and less with my childhood climatic friend.  Like most people, I began to move unaware through whatever weather I was dealt and learned to make do, rain or shine.  My old acquaintance had not forgotten me, however, and made this point quite clearly by contacting me one day in the form of a practical joke.

From vacations when I was little and then living in Florida as a teenager, I had developed a passionate kinship with the state's beaches.  There, the wind, waves, and sand beneath my feet all palpably coursed with a tingling current of vital force that my body craved to absorb.  When I took up permanent residence in the Sunshine State in my mid-twenties, I spent every free weekend on the east coast, recharging myself like a battery.

I was in the prime of my physical fitness, and it seemed the more energy I expended at the beach, the more vitality I was able to take away with me.  Frisbees were very fashionable back then, and throwing this flying disc back and forth was the perfect way to connect with the elusive elan that I sought.  Unfortunately, I was (and still am) an uncoordinated klutz.  The only way I could throw with accuracy or catch every return was to pretend that the plastic flying saucer was a weapon.  If I thought about what I was trying to do I couldn't hit the side of a barn, and I spent most of my time chasing the runaway Frisbees I couldn't snatch out of the air on the return.  My body, however, was capable of doing things my mind could not, especially if my life depended on it! Having this attitude not only gave me a lightning-fast response, it gave me a deadly aim at a person's most vulnerable parts and so turned a lighthearted game into a serious competition.

One day in particular, I played better than I ever had before.  It seemed as if I could jump ten feet into the air if I needed to, and I could sprint with unbelievable speed without getting winded.  My poor opponent was usually better at using the aerial disc than I, but this day he had a real battle on his hands trying to protect himself.  Almost buoyant, I would catch his tosses in mid-leap and forcefully send the saucer back before my feet hit the ground, not giving him a moment to rest.

Puffed up with pride and amazement at my own prowess, I focused solely on rigidly maintaining my determination and the upper hand. When I was so full of myself that I lost my connection with the flow of the day and was about to explode with vanity, the south wind decided to teach me a lesson.

The incoming Frisbee was headed straight for my hand when the steadily blowing salt air gusted into my face and wafted the spinning disc high above my head.  I frowned and turned to see where my implement of destruction would land.  Instead, the apparently weightless saucer hitched a ride on the next burst of wind and sailed further up the beach.  With a look of surprise on my face, I was brought back to the real world and ran after the disappearing disc at full speed.  No eagle ever rode the thermals more cleverly than that Frisbee did the strong, south sea breeze; I was certain the toy was setting a world record for both time and distance covered in the air.  

Almost out of breath, I gratefully slowed to a trot as the runaway saucer finally landed upright on the wet sand.  But the instant its plastic rim touched the ground, a gust of wind buffeted my backside and propelled the precariously balanced Frisbee still further.  With mouth agape, I watched in disbelief as the saucer gained momentum and rolled off up the beach like a riderless unicycle.

With a confident laugh, I took off in an easy sprint, certain I would have no trouble retrieving the escapee; the odds were too great against the rolling object's staying on edge like that for long.  But the disc never faltered, and I had to run like a race horse just to keep up with it!  In a flash, I understood that this was a game of Frisbee between myself and the wind -- an old friend who had been helping me play the whole time and wanted some recognition.

I grinned with delight over the fact that the weather had gone out of its busy way to contact me.  Although I could tell my long-ago transmissions had gotten through by the responses I received, I had always harbored a tiny sliver of human doubt and wondered if perhaps our communications were nothing more than a personal fantasy.  This day's close encounter left little room for doubt!  Still chasing the upright Frisbee, a quarter of a mile away from my towel and tanning oil and in an unfamiliar section of the seaside, I realized that the supernatural antics of the Frisbee were due to the volition -- not whimsy -- of the wind.  

My old acquaintance had its ears on and was playing me up the beach, always one step ahead and listening for my next move.  I nodded, mentally acknowledged and accepted the challenge, and began to run with renewed determination.  It took me almost another quarter mile to realize that the weather was not only cheating, but was competing to win as seriously as I!

Thinking I had a strategic edge, I first tried to grab the earthbound disc as I sped along beside it.  Confident, I lunged and got very close, but one strong puff of air rolled the saucer away out of my reach.  I lost my balance and almost landed on my face in the sand when I stumbled.  I also stubbed my big toe.

Hopping along as fast as I could go, I hollered at the quickly receding Frisbee:  "Hey you!  Get back here!"  People cleared a path for the apparently motorized disc, and laughed as I panted past them in pursuit.  Twice the saucer slowed to a lazy wobble long enough for me to regain my breath and catch up.  Twice the Frisbee was again cruelly snatched from my fingertips at the last second and sent speeding off at full velocity.  

As I pounded up the coast at a marathon runner's pace, the stitch that had begun in my side finally abated and my throbbing toe was forgotten.  The crowd thinned out, and I grinned and nodded as those few people turned to watch us rush by.  Up ahead, to my left, I spotted a thick stand of waving pines that had cast its progeny toward the ocean in an attempt to escape the residential district which sprawled ever closer at its back.  This cool cave of green looked out of place in the monochrome wasteland of the dunes and was the last area of public access on the north end of the beach.  Beneath the soughing branches, several families had settled in for the day with their lawn chairs, coolers, and a smoker.  While the adults watched from this shady haven, their children played at the water's edge.

I must have looked like a crazy woman as I bore down on the young sunbathers.  Their happy shouts ended abruptly as they saw me coming, and they dropped their floaties and sand shovels and merged into one group for protection.  Concerned about the sudden change in their offspring's demeanor, parents emerged from the piney parlor and followed my progress with hand-shaded eyes.  Not wanting to alarm anyone, I grinned, waved, and made another unsuccessful attempt to snag the teetering disc.  White teeth flashed brilliantly against the sun-tanned faces all around, as adults and children began to point and laugh at my predicament.  Past the group of happy campers, the tantalizing odor of barbecued pork accompanied me for quite a distance as I struggled after the Frisbee.

Finally, I was alone with the sand, the waves, and the wind.  I had tried every trick I knew to no avail, and was exhausted.  If I gave up I would lose the game -- and my flying saucer as well; it seemed that the toy was a trophy the weather was not willing to give up.  I had gotten the message and still the wind would not relent.  Feeling inebriated from the change in blood chemistry created by the long-distance race, I saw a quick mental picture of a tiny Frisbee rolling up the eastern coastline of a map of the United States, all the way to Canada!  I wondered -- how far was the south wind willing to go?  Could the hot ocean breath really read my thoughts?  

I had done everything I could think of except physically tackle the speeding object.  As soon as the idea was born, my body acted instinctively, and I pounced squarely on the plastic disc with both feet.  Just that quickly, the race was over and I collapsed upon the Frisbee in a delirious, laughing heap.  Gusts of tangy salt air threw whirling bits of sand around me like gritty confetti -- an acknowledgment and celebration of my well-won victory.

When I could finally speak, I wiped tears from my eyes and said, "I have not forgotten you, old friend!"  My body felt as light as a down feather from the breathy journey and the laughter; transformed into a thrumming ball of pure energy, I felt as if I could be blown rolling up the beach myself.

Instead, I rose on rubbery legs with my prize firmly in hand, and headed back.  Spectators who had witnessed my race against the wind laughed, clapped, and cheered as I walked past with an embarrassed grin.  I accepted their congratulations with a wave of the tightly clutched saucer, and chuckled at the thought of the sight I must have presented to all those people.  By the time I got back to my towel and tanning lotion, my disc-throwing attitude was so far moved from deadly serious that my opponent had the upper hand in the game for the rest of the day.

Now much older and a little wiser, I rarely broadcast my desires over the weather channel anymore.  Education and experience have come together to relay a simple message: more important than the intent behind my requests is the fact that what results could affect everything and everyone else over the entire face of the earth.  The new science of Chaos proposes that if a butterfly flaps its wings in South America, a typhoon could result on the other side of the planet.  We're more intimately connected to the weather than we realize, and climatic balance is very delicate and easy to upset.  If I call the rain, I perhaps deprive someone else who needs the life-sustaining elements of the storm more than I.  Also, I could cause harm to others through lightning strikes, flooding, or wind damage.  If I push a storm away, the same type of potentially destructive effects could result.  Not wanting to bear such responsibility, I try to emulate Nature and adapt to whichever way the wind might blow.  I listen instead, and desire only to help maintain the balance and harmony of Life.