Saturday was my birthday, and it turned out to be a really lovely day. Julian completely surprised me with a miniature watercolour set. It was just perfect for carrying around on adventures. We decided to head over to St. Anne’s for the annual Kite Festival.
On the drive there, I couldn’t help but smile as I remembered the last time we went, years ago, when our boys were small. We’d been so excited for a day of kites and sea air, only to find not a single breath of wind and no kite lifting off the sand that day.
This time, though, the forecast promised gusts, and it certainly delivered. Boy, did we see kites fly! Bright colours and bold shapes filled the sky, swooping, tumbling, and soaring. I loved it. It was just incredible. I skipped along the sand like an excited big kid.
And the little kid in Julian was positively bouncing along with these dancing crabs:
Of course, just as I was thinking I might christen my new paints with a quick sketch, the rain arrived. Never mind; we ducked into a cafe for coffee and cake instead. And I realised this time last year I was also in a cafe eating cake with Julian. It inspired me to blog about cake and relationships that week. I still love that post and my illustration that went with it.
Here’s the link if you’d like to go back and look at it: Cake and relationships
But back to kites. As I stood there watching, a few thoughts drifted in, little analogies about well-being.
The first thing that struck me was how much more beautiful the kites were together. One lone kite might impress with its clever stunts, but dozens dancing in the same sky were breathtaking. It made me think of community, how much richer and more joyful life feels when we share it. We thrive in connection, and beauty is multiplied when it’s something we do together. I know this is a recurring theme for me, and I think it deserves repeating. I’m in good company, with Brene Brown:
“Connection is why we’re here; it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives.”
Then I thought back to that other St Anne’s visit, the windless one. You can’t make the wind blow. All you can do is wait and be ready. A kite positioned well will catch the breeze when it comes. I think our well-being is like this. We can’t force ourselves to be endlessly cheerful or productive. We don’t generate the wind. But we can put ourselves in a place where joy is more likely to lift us. We can slow down, rest, stay open, and be observant rather than striving after happiness in a mad sprint.
And then there’s also the dance between structure and surrender. A kite needs its frame and string, something to be tethered to, but it also needs to yield to the direction of the wind. It’s the same with our well-being. It rests on both anchors, practices, and routines that keep us steady, as well as flexibility and the humility to move with life’s unpredictable currents.
Sometimes, we can't make our kite lift no matter how hard we tug on the string or dash across the sand. I remember that day with the boys, worn out from running, trying desperately to see the kites fly, but they just dragged along the beach. What I know is that the wind eventually picks up. Change comes. And when it does, the kite soars, just as it did last Saturday.
So perhaps this is a season for me to remember that I don’t always need to rush or strive. I can rest. I can wait. And then when unexpected winds come, whether in joy, creativity, or connection, I can soar with them.
And maybe most of all, I’m holding onto the image of all those kites flying together. Because in life, as in the sky, it’s that togetherness that makes things truly excellent.
Love that thought that was are better together.