Of all the elements, air or wind is the
most mysterious. It is what gives life to all creatures on this earth.
And when it is done, each of us has breathed our last.
~Karla
Now Wind asked Ababinili if she
could have the humans as her children, but again, Ababinili said, "No,
they can't be your children, but they can be your grandchildren so you can
remove the unclean air and all kinds of diseases.”
~A Chickasaw Legend
I AM THE WIND…
I am the wind who
rages fiercely during a storm, who bows tree limbs over in pain, yanking
branches and ripping leaves from their source. I am the wind who produces
funnel clouds, destroying homes, pulling up the roots of trees and
relationships held dear. I am the wind who whines low moans through the trees
on an eerie dark night. I am spooky, for I scream a voiceless music, sending
piercing chills up and down spines.
I am the wind who
barks icy winds into winter, my biting breath seeking warmth beneath protective
coats, whipping stabbing coldness into unwary backs. I am the wind who
annoyingly blows precious papers from groping hands, sending them rolling,
turning, and twisting.
Like a teenager
bolting through the door, almost stepping on the dog, not noticing her
grandmother sitting in a rocker in the living room...I am the wind.
I, too, am the
summer breeze who sings sweet lullabies through the trees and over green
grasses. I am the wind who gracefully pushes the sails of floating rafts. I am
the hearty breeze who gives a reassuring voice to questing uplifted faces,
sending a fresh air of heroic calm to surge within them. I am the wind who
bears the seeds of tomorrow’s life, dispersing them over this vast earth.
I am the gusty
breeze who blows through trees, swishing and dancing their leaves that tilt and
sway in sheer ecstasy. I am the quieting breeze who comes in comfort,
wafting into musty corners, consoling children, dogs, and elders, as they lie
weak and afraid. I am the autumn breeze who mournfully, yet resignedly, tugs at
the leaves of yesterday’s life and sends them silently to the grounds of death.
I am the gentle breeze who dries tears from red-eyed faces. I am the wind who
gives seasons their life, dutifully answering the calls of my command.
I am in Nami and
her gentle surprise of nosing my hand after the hike, saying, “Thank-you for
taking the time.”
If I frighten you, is that not simply your response to me? I am not here to frighten you. I can be extreme: I can hurt, destroy, and give ghostly chills of doubt. And yet, I give comfort, strength, tranquility, grace and life. I can do only as my nature wills. My demands are great. I cannot choose to be only the soothing breezes. Would you rather that I end my breath, with nature fading out because there is no one left to blow the breath of life into her creation? Or will you accept me—my rasping and turbulent winds as well as my sweet and tranquil breezes—all my airs enunciating my offering to life?
