When the storm winds come, they invite Uneasy and Anxious to play in my heart.

The unexpected rush of directionless force is what I am most in awe of and afraid of, as I stumble in swirls, tripping up on my own feet and holding onto Dignity for support.

And there’s the sound. 

Hollow and infinite, with a haunting lilt and power I am unable to harness in my humanness.


I have been hearing for eons but I only started learning to listen in this lifetime. 


Perhaps that is why the wind is telling me secrets in rushes I can’t comprehend.


All the voices of the Earth have, over the span of time, joined together to form one chorus and I cannot decipher the meaning with my simple translation skills.

I have arrived at a place in my own mind where I’m married to the hairs standing up on the back of my neck.

I think it knows. 


This wind, roaring with precision in randomness, knows where my walls are and where my carefully constructed buffers have been placed.

Instead of blasting them down and whipping me into small pieces of nothingness, it is testing the strength of all the layers I’m made of. 

I resolve to stand and listen further. 


Both feet firmly on the ground and wedded to the root that is everything I’m made of, from all the lives and times that have come before. 


I am a warrior and my sails are poised for the storm.

“For example, the wind has its reasons.
We just don’t notice as we go about our lives.
But then, at some point, we are made to notice.
The wind envelops you with a certain purpose in mind, and it rocks you. The wind knows everything that’s inside you…They all know us very well. From top to bottom.
It only occurs to us at certain times.
And all we can do is go with those things.
As we take them in, we survive, and deepen.”
 ― H. Murakami, Hear the Wind Sing

 

Warriors Whisper: The Memory of Time

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