Living in the Gap
January 4, 2012 – Wind
I am sitting here watching the branches of an azalea bush swing with wild abandon. Occasionally it wraps itself around the trunk of a pine and unwinds to dangle freely in the yard. I hear it whispering to birds in flight and wonder what it is saying. Maybe it’s reminding them they should have flown south as the temperature is steadily dropping. Perhaps it is simply the ancient language spoken between tree and bird since the dawn of time.
It occurs to me wind is much like pain, invisible but seldom silent. While we can’t actually see the wind, we can feel its chill and force. We can often see a path of destruction left in its wake. While the cause of pain and aftermath of scars might be visible, pain itself can not be seen with the naked eye. Tears, puffy eyes, shaking bodies, hunched shoulders, and lined, sallow faces are obvious signs of heartache. We hear sobs, sighs, and gasps of breath, but the voice of pain speaks internally.
Like hungry children we swallow the wind and delight in its antics as long as it doesn’t cross us. When wind and pain walk hand in hand, we know we don’t want to go out to play. While wind has a sometimes destructive nature, we’ve been gifted with instinct for our own survival. May we each know when to take pleasure and when to run.
The secrets of wind and pain might only ever be known by the bearer of such. In life and nature there are things of which we do not utter; we simply live them.