Confronting the Wind

“So, you think you’ve changed, do you?”, the Wind whispered with a snarl.

“You say you’ve let go of identities, beliefs, and people. You say you’ve found the threads of truth you’ve searched the world over for. I’m older than the world. I’ve seen a lot of people claim change, and I’ve seen a lot of people die without trying.”

The Wind faded into a stillness so thick and heavy you could cut yourself a slice.

Returning with a blustery gust, the Wind continued, “The more you think you’ve changed, the more I’m going to throw stones at you. No more walls to keep them out. We’ll find out if you’re made of glass, or if the change you claim is real.”

“Look, Wind,” I replied with a smile and a splash of condescension. “For an omniscient being who claims to see all, you’re blind as a seagull with cookies on its eyes.

I’ll use The Voice I Didn’t Mean to Find as an example. All I felt was potential in the way marble could become a statue. Not easily, not overnight, not soon. That’s an easy threshold to walk away from. 

But you know what?

I leaned in. I felt the excitement, the joy. I’ve kept practicing. I shared recordings. I made a demo. I’m looking for a vocal coach. Show me where the flinch is.”

The Wind didn’t stir for a few breaths, then returned with a poisonous bite.

“I sense no flinch in your response. But still you hide behind walls, keeping the world at arm’s length—and for what? Safety? Acceptance? CoooomFORT?

Cracking with laughter, I respond, “You’re as absent as my father, dear Wind. While you’ve been off terrorizing the Aegean Sea, I’ve been filling the moat with dirt and planting flowers. Instead of stout stone walls, there’s hedges made of lemon cypress trees. Deterrent has become attraction. Stone has become stage.

I learned to write with the depth that only comes from entering the Temple of the Heart. I move through the world while dancing to a beat only I can hear. I share things that make me blush. And yet you bluster about lecturing me on walls? 

Get fucked, as they say.”

The next silence was long enough to wonder if the Wind had pulled itself back to the Aegean Sea. If so, how cute. Who’s avoiding and hiding now.

Eventually, the Wind returned with a whisper and a flutter.

“You claim to know what you want, but do you have the strength to resist what once tempted you? Will you stick to your path when the world tries luring you away? Do you, who once bowed to impulse, have the discernment to separate noise from signal?”

For a while, I stared into the Wind, eyes bright with contempt.

“I spent an entire year not forcing, not hurrying, not rushing… listening. I waited for my deepest truths to emerge on their own time rather than frantically seeking. Now instead of having ideas, I’m feeling knowings. The kind of truths you cannot ignore.”

I waited a long time for the Wind to reply.

I’m still waiting.

Which is nice. I’ve never much liked the wind.

With love from the forest,

~ Alexander

P.S. Somewhere above and beyond, the Wind circled. Quiet as the midnight hush, eyes sharp as an eagle, watching, unsure whether to resent or respect the change it could no longer deny. Lived experience and embodied proof tell no lies.