Light, Shadow, and Talking to the Wind

On wind

“If it’s invisible,” asked mouse, “does that mean it isn’t real?”

“Some of the most important things,” fox explained, “don’t need to be seen to be real.”

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Mobile: “untitled” (57” x 40”) headed to Toronto
…

Thoughts while making
It’s exceptionally dark here tonight. And cold.

And the sky is alive with a talking wind.

She’s a wind with much to say, one worth listening to if you’re so inclined.

After I closed up my studio, she invited me to sit down.

And so I did, tucking my bare toes into the grass.

I didn’t notice when he came and sat down beside me.

“I've been talking with the wind a lot,” he said.

Startled, all I could muster was, “me too.”

“Throwing words out there I've kept too long,” he added.

“But can you understand what *she* says?” I ask.

“The wind makes sound instead of words,” he clarified.

“And I think I understand,” he paused. “Neither needs to explain in turn. It cries out, and I understand.”

“I’ve listened,” I say, “but I just hear the wind in the trees.”

He smiled then, whispering, “We breathe the same way when we're drawn.”

Sensing my confusion, he wove an ode to her to clarify:

“As you left, a force, to fly on
You left a fragment to be played upon
Fallen and grown new, the wind restored
It went right through
I stood in its way and became it.”

“To understand her,” I asked, “I need to get in her way? Or is it something more?”

“Ah, your fingers weave, above the trees
Ah, the talking wind, the turning leaves
Ah, your shoulder blades, among the waves
Ah, you fly away, and dissipate.”

Before I could ask him if – having stepped into her – I had to let go to truly be restored, he was gone, slipping into the shadows.

What would you ask the wind if you have a chance?

Quotations in italics are re-imagined lyrics from the ethereal brilliance of the Great Lake Swimmers and their song, “The Talking Wind.”