A story written by Leona Thomas
Dust rises like smoke – drifting, disbursing, gone. Now you would never know it was there. In a few days time, if the wind blows the right way, somebody up a mountain in Tanzania will take a deep breath. They’ll inhale and say, “Ah, they’re drilling in Croix Daurade again. I smell it here today. Blessings brothers, I hope it all goes well for you! And they will sigh.
And the wind will carry that sigh to someone in a village in China who will sniff the air and whisper, “I sense your body is off balance. You have aches and pains. You should rest more. And eat more vegetables!” And that lady will laugh so loudly that she startles the nearby crows and they will rise as one, into the air, heading to the hills for peace and quiet. They will start a ripple through the air with their sudden mass migration.
Two days later a Maori in New Zealand will be walking through the bush when he will stop mid-stride and exclaim, “Why, that silly old fool has startled the crows again! It must be Thursday. She always sets them off on a Thursday. I wonder what’s different about Thursday?” And he’ll resume his walk in silence.
And the wind will keep blowing, moving onwards on its journey and, as it passes back through India, a sage on a mountaintop will smile and go to prayer pose, to Namaste, for the peacefulness carried on the wind.
And the wind will keep blowing, through the villages it will go. The women working down at the riverside will all stop their slaving, laying down the stones and the clothes. They’ll stand up and stretch out the stiffness in their backs and their joints will creak. And that peacefulness will fall upon them. They will say nothing but their eyes will meet and exhaustion will be mirrored there. They will take in the nourishment of the Namaste, standing straight and tall to allow for maximum integration. And then, as one, they will resume their washing duties – all chatter now dying away. Only the sound of the river will remain.
“I am magnificent!” it will triumphantly roar. “I am amazing! Look how fast I flow! See how I move? How amazing am I?!”
And the wind will keep blowing...
In another country a man will be in his tower preparing to call his folk to prayers when the river’s bragging will tickle his ears. “Goodness me! That river really is pleased with himself! That’s the third time this week I’ve heard him singing God’s praises. I shall sing with him today. Allah be praised!”
The man on the camel in the desert for the second day without water will hear the songs of magnificence – the prayers to Allah and the echo of the proud river – and he will feel his throat relax, somehow revived by the music in the air, by that melody of life. And as he gulps in great lungfuls of cool fresh air the wind will collect his grateful smile and will go on its way.
A mother in the forests of Russia will feel the arid heat wash over her and will fall to her knees in prayer, “Dear Lord, thank you for keeping my brother safe in the desert.” She will walk to a nearby river and drink deeply, saying, “Dear Lord, as I drink this water may all humans everywhere have their thirst quenched.” A moan will start up on the wind. And the wind will keep blowing, picking up speed, and it will split off and run in all directions.
“I have a prayer for you” it will say as it rushes through the plains of Siberia and Mongolia. “I have a prayer for you” it will say as it climbs and soars over the Alps in Europe.
Everywhere the people will stop what they are doing, just for a few moments. A child will ask, “Mummy, what is that?” And the mother will answer, “I don’t know.” The older brother will say, “I know what it is! That is the sound of love, a prayer on the breeze, travelling around the world, kissing each of us with the love from heaven and giving us a hug.” The mother will turn to look at this boy and retort, “Don’t be ridiculous! Get on with your homework and don’t talk such nonsense!” But the boy will smile and whisper softly to himself, “Oh, thank you to the kind one who has prayed for me. I was feeling so thirsty inside but now I feel full. Thank you. I can go on now. Thank you...”
The wind will scoop up his gratitude and take it to all the places on the earth and humans everywhere will cry up to the skies, “Me too!” “I feel it too!” And, even though they can see nothing, they will know something important is upon them.
As the wind picks up speed some people will notice they can see sparkling colours in the air. “Look!” they will exclaim, and babies will gurgle and clap their pudgy little hands in delight. Dogs will start running and chasing the colours and the birds will begin to sing. Soon there will be a wave of birdsong following the wind around the world, the chorus rising to a crescendo, racing over the mountains and on over the deserts and the oceans.
Fishermen off the coast of Alaska will wonder if it is the sound of mermaids, a siren song, calling them to their doom, for it is the sweetest sound human ears will ever hear.
And the wind will keep blowing. It will carry the sound of the birds’ jubilation and it will carry a warmth that has nothing to do with the rays of the sun...
Each man, woman and child will be touched deep in the heart by this miracle of love, this celebration of life. Soldiers will lay down their weapons. Husbands will stop in the midst of shouting back at their wives.
As the wind circles the planet it will loop in glorious new weave so many beautiful strands of light. And all humanity will just stop. They will stop rushing. They will stop running. They will get up from computers and televisions and come outside to see what is happening.
“Oh dear God!” a fearfully religious man in deepest Texas will say. “It’s the end of the world. Armageddon is here!” He will mark the sign of the cross before him and fall to his knees, his eyes tightly closed, bracing himself for the death strike. But all he will feel is a tender kiss. The breeze will seem to whisper “I love you” and the air will fill with the sound of angels singing. “What IS this?” he will ask in wonder...
And the wind will keep blowing, spiralling around the planet weaving grace and love, balance and peace, and sparkling light everywhere.
The Maori in New Zealand will laugh out loud. “It has started!” he will exclaim. And he will dance. His feet will beat a new rhythm and all of life will be transformed.
In another galaxy far away, a message will go out throughout their world:
“Planet Earth is alive in Love. A huge celebration is rocking the planet. At last they have come to their senses. What a wonderful day this is!”
And the wind will keep blowing - racing through back streets, around Temples and Churches, through forests and jungles, over rivers and oceans, hills and mountains. Round and round it will go, delivering its blessings far and wide to anyone who can breathe them in. “I am life!” it will whisper. “I am love.”
And the wind will keep blowing...
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