Sentences with phrase «wind and water swirl»

Just as wind and water swirl freely around in their fluid environments, feng shui — which means «wind» and «water» — aims to create environments in which positive energy (Chi) can also flow freely without obstruction.

Not exact matches

Later that evening, after the wind was threw dancing across the water, it swirled up high above the trees and set them sighing in the night Somewhere between dark and midnight he left.

TPC Sawgrass's iconic 17th hole is one of the sport's most recognizable settings — and the most likely place to catch one of the world's best golfers cursing under his breath after swirling winds carry a wedge shot into the water that surrounds the island green.

Using publically available data about wind speed and water vapor flux from real - world atmospheric rivers over the Atlantic, the scientists created a computer model consisting of thousands of moving virtual air particles and found a close match between the complex swirls — the Lagrangian coherent structures — made by the air particles and the patterns made by the real atmospheric rivers.

Heavy winds and flying debris are bad, but the storm surge (the onshore rush of water caused by a hurricanes swirling winds) and flooding from rainfall can be just as dangerous as wind.

There were vast and silent forces swirling around me: strong water currents created by distant winds and large waves, the gravitational pull of moon and sun, and the rapid spinning of the earth.

Bold structures carved with elegant lines evoke the spirits of flowing water and swirling wind.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,

Scott Covert (10:38:42): «I can see how swirling winds and sea currents might isolate Antarctica from warm water and air, aresols, soot etc... but how does it stop AGW caused by CO2?