It has been extremely windy here today, and I wish it had been warmer so that I could have sat outside because the wind gusting through the trees is the most wonderful sound in the world.
I'm not talking about damaging winds that accompany hurricanes and tornadoes. I'm referring to a wind that is just strong enough to make a stout tree give a respective bow. The kind of wind that starts as a whisper half a mile away, grows to a rolling moan as it approaches, and finally roars overhead at a decibel level just high enough to erase any other sounds.
That sound - that wonderfully glorious sound - is something I can lose myself in. I exist only in that moment. For that moment that the wind rumbles overhead there are no concerns or troubles. There is no before or after, no yesterday or tomorrow. There is only that moment; the wind filling my ears.
The sound of rushing wind has been a magnet for me since I was 9 years old. When other kids were running to get their kites, I was running to nearby acres of tall field grass. Lying on my back, hidden within the three foot tall reeds, I would listen to the approach of the wind. So tempted I often was to stand and spread my arms on the chance that I would fly. But I knew the better course was to lie still and let my mind ride the roaring wave.
