There is a heavy blow on this morning, wind strong, cold and out
of the west. I like the meditation of
the wind. What blows hard on my face
this a.m. is part of distant places. This wind
is really the breath of thousands of humans, miles and millennia away,
orchestrated by nature to roar in a symphony of God. What tales this wind could tell, sorrows
breathed out in anguish, love breathed out hot and wanting, play breathed out
in a rush on some playground, prayer breathed out beside the bed of a loved
one. The great wonder is that this wind was breathed out today by a working
mother, two hundred years ago as a wagon crossed the plain, a thousand years
ago as ancient man set by the Mississippi River and even 10,000 years ago in
Eden. It’s been cleansed by trees and
now is not human breath as much as soul wind. What you're breathing in while you read this may be what I breathed out as I wrote it.
Yeah there’s a heavy blow on this morning and no wonder, it’s blown
up with the life of humans.
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