A Voice on the Wind
Weeks into my journey, I came to the edge of a land
known by my people as “the land of winding cliffs.”
Sandstone ridges filled the horizon.
Junipers peeked out from crags in the rocky cliffs,
but otherwise vegetation seemed scarce.
I had never seen this land, but I had heard rumor of it
among my people. It was said to be a place to be avoided—
a confusing land where many entered and few returned.
But here it was, too immense to be avoided, or so I thought.
And so I entered it, despite my people’s warnings.
For most of a day, I carefully picked my way from one
canyon to the next, consulting the sun above for direction.
But as the day grew longer, I became less sure of each choice.
By the time the sun set, I was lost.
Rock walls rose high on either side, obscuring
the night sky and pressing their shadows against me.
After a series of choices I could not retrace, I found myself
stuck in a labyrinth of dead ends and gullies.
It was the last time in my life that I would feel fear.
For as morning dawn broke,
I discovered a truth that casts fear away:
I discovered, as my people have always known,
that I was not alone.
I heard something. Or perhaps it is better to say that
I felt something—a stir in the still air around me.
It was faint at first, almost imperceptible.
But as I tuned myself to it, the stir became a voice—
its echo traveling the bends to me,
bringing comfort to my soul.
Although separated yet by a great distance, the voice
connected me to One who would save me.
His voice became my companion—
a guide who showed me the safe way forward.
Even when I thought I was most alone,
I was connected to Him . . . by the wind.
The Breath of Life
How foolish I was to think that I had ever been alone.
And how haughty.
As if I had created the air that had given me breath.
I heard the voice on the wind in the moment
I realized I couldn’t survive on my own.
And as I hearkened to that voice, I learned gratitude.
My gratitude started with the most basic of realizations:
I was grateful to be alive.
And what I learned among the winding cliffs was
that my life was not mine alone but another’s.
My life had been given to me.
The voice that saved me and the wind
that carried it to me were gifts. Yes, gifts.
I had spent my life taking all but myself for granted—
I had insisted on going my own way,
I had ignored warnings and
entered the land of winding cliffs,
I had made my condition hopeless.
Yet the wind still sustained my every breath,
lengthening my life so that I might discover
the voice that saves.
My young friend, I hope it doesn’t take despair
for you to realize: The air that sustains us, like the light
that warms us, is a gift from the Creator.
To breathe is to breathe his breath.
The air that sustains our existence is a testimony of his.
The Connection of Nature
This gift from above connects all creation.
Look around and you will see that I speak the truth.
But you must look with more than your eyes,
for they deceive. You must look with your soul.
The hills, the trees, the valleys, the streams—
they appear to be separate and disconnected,
lone elements pieced together to make a landscape.
But that is because man measures connectedness
only by what can be seen with the eye.
The winding cliffs taught me of a deeper connectedness—
a connection not so much seen as heard or felt.
It is this: The edge of the stream is not its banks,
the beginning of the hill is not its slope, the hem of the tree
is not its branch. All reach out and unite on the wind.
My young friend, close your eyes and you will see the truth
in my words. You perceive the stream before you arrive at
its waters. You feel the presence of the hills before you reach
their slopes. You hear the trees before they give you shade.
Your presence as well is delivered to all around you
far in advance of your bodily arrival.
For the space between the elements of nature is not empty.
It is occupied to the full—occupied by the air that joins us.
To walk is to press your presence into all you walk among.
And to feel the press of their presence in return.
Like the saving voice of my deliverer,
your presence spreads far beyond you.
It walks—forward or backward—upon the wind.
The Connection of Man
You know the connection of which I speak.
You have known it since your birth.
For nature’s connection is but a hint of man’s.
You are no more separate from your family and friends
than are nature’s elements around you.
How do I know?
Because although they’ve been gone for many years,
to this day I feel the breeze of my mother, the firm wind
of my father, the gusts of my sisters and brother.
Their lives and mine still mingle in my soul.
My young friend, I wish I could put my arm around you
and look you in the eye to help you understand.
My life was never merely mine. Nor is your life merely yours.
We owe our lives to others.
And in our daily living, we live together, connected with
the people around us. They occupy our thoughts and inform
our feelings, and we speak their words through our lips.
We are ever conversing, even through our silence.
For our hearts are ever sending messages upon the wind.
Messages on the Wind
There is a legend about the wind that I wish you to know.
It is said that the wind has a spirit of its own.
This is why it can move around Mother Earth.
As it moves around the earth, the wind carries within it
the words uttered by the lips and hearts of every man,
woman, and child. Every laugh, every sad sigh,
every joyful sound, every foul word, every song . . .
It is said that the wind carries these words
and sounds in its bosom until the last day,
when we stand, with the wind, before the Creator.
At that day, the wind will unlock the words of our lips and hearts,
and we will hear the messages that we have sent upon it.
It is said that at that time, our messages will bring us
deep joy or bitter sadness.
Soon, I will see that day.
But already I am a witness of the legend.
For I have heard the sounds of man upon the wind,
and my heart has been made sometimes happy and
sometimes sad for what I have heard.
But there is more to the legend, my young friend.
And it is this that I wish you most to remember.
Our hearts, and their messages, can change.
As we stand before the Creator, we will be saddened or
made joyful by the messages still spoken by our hearts.
So, my young friend, when the morning dawn breaks,
let your heart be filled with grateful words
for your daily walking.