The Wind

I lift my head from my reading.

To watch.  To listen. To inhale.

High winds from the northwest swaying the tall pines.  The gusts rustling the branches.  The tree tops whistling.  The sweet smell of tree resin drifting over the fence from the neighbor’s pruning.  It was yesterday, Sunday afternoon.  I was lounging in the backyard. Licking my wounds from my long run.  Tucked under a comforter…seeking protection against chilling 20 mph winds.  I put Knausgaard down and start thumbing through blog posts. “Wind” synchronicity switches on.

First Thomas Merton: “No writing on the solitary, meditative dimensions of life can say anything that has not already been said better by the wind in the pine trees.”

Then Cat Stevens with “The Wind“: “…listen to the wind…To the wind of my soul…Where I’ll end up well I think, Only God really knows…”


Then Carl Sandburg takes it deep and home:

“Languages die like rivers.
Words wrapped round your tongue today
And broken to the shape of thought
Between your teeth and lips speaking
Now and today
Shall be faded hieroglyphics
Ten thousand years from now.
Sing—and singing—remember
Your song dies and changes
And is not here tomorrow
Any more than the wind
Blowing ten thousand years ago.”

— Carl Sandburg


Sources:

21 thoughts on “The Wind”

  1. Wow, David… I had to read that over a few times. Poetry, my friend. Well, up until “Licking my wounds from my long run”…which reminded me of your earlier post, and took me back to that other Kanigan reality. I love Cat Stevens, and this is a very nice post. Thank you. 🙂

  2. Synchronicity … name of our farm is “WindSpirit”. Love sitting on the porch watching the pasture roll in waves with the breeze … curious how little sound there can be for such a symphony of life.

    1. Love the name “WindSpirit.” Evocative images this name brings to mind. Stephen, you took me away for a moment with the wind and rolling waves of pasture. Thank you.

  3. How perfect that these thoughts would flow – like a perfect breeze – from one gorgeous thought to another..the wind to Cat Stevens to Carl Sandburg. Notice these and the bruises heal.

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