Breath of Life

A lesson, carried on the wind.

My mind has been racing—with responsibilities, the things I want to accomplish, the nagging fears about all that could get in the way or stop this train that I’m not even sure I wanted to take in the first place, HA! So grateful for the woods at times like this…

I’ve been listening to the wind this weekend—that far off exhale of air, heading my way, with no idea what it will bring when it reaches me. No way to do anything with it: make it warmer or cooler, speed it up or slow it down. Nothing to do but breathe it in. I sit here with it, listen to it, feel its coolness as it reaches my cheek, hear the leaves rustle, and then… I watch the first flecks of gold decide to let go, shimmering as they float and find their way to the ground below.

Have you ever come upon a moment that you did not need or want one thing to change about it? That your mind and heart were fully surrendered to life—letting it do what it does? Feeling it blow through and move in ways you’ll never be able to control, or predict, or understand? And how about when that wind carries the hard stuff—anxiety, restlessness, deep sadness, palpable anger—all the things we don’t want? Have you ever been able to release the need to change, fend off, or find clever escape for those?

In my solitude, listening to that wind whisper, over and over, I finally heard it say: you can stop trying now. You don’t need to know how to do this thing. You don’t need to protect yourself from it, or outrun it, or distract yourself from its impact. Because you can’t. You forget this sometimes, every human does.

Isn’t it hilarious that we are all trying to figure out what to do with wind! The way we’ve each got a flimsy formula for how to manage our lives??! How ludicrous that we think we have anything at all to do with the ways that the Breath of Life, of God, will meet and move through us! When all we are being asked to do—is to trust it? Whether it’s the ecstasy of a soft and gentle breeze, the sting of a howling, ruthless wind, or even a pause of utter stillness. All of it is ready for our inhale.

What a relief that we really don’t need to know anything else.. Thank God we really don’t have the power to make life do something different. And that our only choice is whether to surrender, drift like dried leaves toward Holy Ground, be still, and breathe.