Listening to the Wind

On the Metolius River …

The wind rises and swirls through the trees, causing them to sway like giant arms waving and reaching toward the heavens. This invisible energy whispers divine lessons one cannot fail to hear even though it is possible to ignore, ignorance being what it is. If we do not heed the lessons of the wind, she whispers equally in the babbling Metolius as she snakes her way north. In reality, river sounds and wind both whisper the same teaching—that what is important cannot be grasped.

I think this is why, from a distance, we cannot distinguish the voice of wind and water. They surround us in light and vibration even when we do not understand, whispering wisdom of the dakinis who constantly embrace us even when we squirm. Nature’s arms cradle us with infinite patience. I often wonder about humans who never hear her teachings or feel her caress.

But not all beings are born to listen, preferring to act like they exist apart from earth and sky. Our self-absorbed babble makes us deaf to the babbling brook. I suppose this is the reason I am compelled to teach the Dharma, to suggest listening over talking. The art of meditation is a deep listening, a return to our natural capacity to feel a river course through our veins and hear the wind of wisdom speak. 

Now is always a good time to listen.

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