Wind as Spirit Outside and In

Painting/Collage copyright 2-2013

Today the wind has a harrowing sound, a roar and a whirring. I find it hard to describe, but the sound of it is so momentous because it never wanes, it’s like constant back-ground sound, almost like a distant white-noice machine. Now and then this mighty wind will rush in nearby to specifically shake dried leaves and branches I can see, before vanishing or rushing off elsewhere. As a figurative artist, for me everything is a person, but even the invisible wind has some kind of personality to me. Wind has character, is an invisible push, a force, a spirit or THE spirit. I have loved the power and mystery of the wind since childhood when we lived in the Texas Panhandle, where there is nothing to stop the force of wind over dry grassy plains. Somehow out there it sang, it haunted us with the wailing of the souls of Kiowas, Comanches and lost pioneers. But it never scared me. I think I connected the spooky sound of the wind with the word “spirit” early on. Standing there, listening to it as a kid, I thought and felt that something out there knows more than we do, something is more in charge than we are, something is greater and wants our attention. The unseen calls out to us to tune in as well as to tune inward, to hear the whisper of that quiet knowing within. What is unseen is yet present. The outside roar only reminds me that there is an inside roar and it is my spirit within stirring like the wind-blown trees with every choice I make.

6 thoughts on “Wind as Spirit Outside and In”

  1. Bryan, I remember a pasture in the suburban area where we lived in KC. It was too hard to resist, and I’d climb over the fence and run there with my kite. I remember the wind so strong, that leaping with the kite string taut was thrilling because I stayed up in the air much longer and for a greater distance forward than if I had leapt w/o holding the kite. As an adult, I’m glad the family who owned that acreage never sent anyone out to chase me away. But later I realized there were bulls (or at least one) in that field at times, so what was I thinking???

  2. You said it all. As another Texas girl, you nailed it. My wind in west Texas was sand spitting, and when I was heavily overdue with my first girl in April, I wiped off my windowsills before she was born. Nothing but sand. When I went home to see my mother, it was during the same windy month. I drove to meet a friend for a drink amidst a wicked windstorm. I was exhilirated. I was home!

  3. It was only in later years for me that I read Carlos Castaneda that Spirit was associated with wind. As a kid I liked hearing the wind and the different sounds it made going past different things. I think part of why I still like kites today is sometimes when one has the right line, the right length in the right wind the string will make a sound. I thought of the wind playing the instrument. I am not as fond of ‘stunt’ kites which one can manipulate through the air and are often flappy material noisy. I much prefer hanging a beautiful kite up in the air and just watching it and hoping the wind will play my string. :)

  4. Susan, thank you for your comment! I almost included that poem in this entry, it is one if my favorites since childhood. I love Christina Rosetti. Thank you for including it, because you did it is now just as I really wanted it. It is the most wonderful poem. And I think you must sense the same things I do in terms of Spirit which makes us kindred.

  5. Your amazing insights here, so beautifully expressed, remind me of a poem I read to my daughters when they were small, as I remember it. “Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I. But when the leaves hang trembling, the wind is passing by. Who has seen the wind? Neither I nor you, but when the trees bow down their heads, the wind is passing through.” It was written by Christina Rossetti. The sacred concept of the unseen forces that shape our existence has always been difficult to articulate, but you have done a fabulous job.

    I really love this: “Wind has character, is an invisible push, a force, a spirit or THE spirit.”


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