The Wind
Lights out tonight, trouble in the heartland
Got a head-on collision smashing in my guts, man,
I’m caught in a crossfire that I don’t understand…
Talk about a dream; try to make it real.
You wake up in the night with a fear so real.
You spend your life waiting for a moment that just don’t come.
Well don’t waste your time waiting
— Badlands, by Bruce Springsteen
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Gonna be a twister to blow everything down
That ain’t got the faith to stand its ground
Blow away the dreams that tear you apart
Blow away the dreams that break your heart
Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted
- Promised Land, by Bruce Springsteen
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I was awakened by something deep in the night. Was it a dream, or was it something else? I got up, then knew I was not going to be falling back to sleep. Winds were howling in the mighty oaks that tower all around my place, with a steady roar that sounded like a locomotive off in the distance — but not so far off.
I looked out back to make sure everything was secured out there, grateful that I’d battened down the hatches of our jacuzzi and swim-spa — we don’t need their lids to get airborne and cause damage. These winds were predicted to whip up to 50 mph, and from the sounds of them, were not far off that mark in this early hour.
I’m too awake, all systems are up and running. The lights flickered, then went out, Kathy awoke with the beeping of the alarm system, I went in to reassure here. There, there, all is well, go back to sleep. I got this.
These winds keep howling, and I am on full alert. It does feel like a wind is blowing through my life right now, but I’m good with it. Let it blow. Life’s too short to hang onto that which must be swept away. If it no longer serves any good purpose, let it go.
God knows, it takes a mighty wind, sometimes. I tend to hang onto everything, intent to squeeze every last living breath out of whatever it is that has brought me joy, pleasure or meaning to my life. A lot of dead horses around here, that I beat the life out of, in my search for every last kernel of inspiration I could rend from their corpses.
Let it go. Blow, wind, blow. Let the dead debris blow away, for godssakes.
I’ll work with what’s left. Life will go on. I’ll still be here — unless the wind takes me, too. In that case, I won’t be here. I’ll be there — wherever the wind deposits me. Wherever that is, I’ll pick myself up, and go from there.
Life will be wherever I am. Life, as I know it. Everything I’ve ever had that had true substance, will be right there, right here, with me.
The wind isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, it cleans up the clutter. It reminds us what is truly ours, and what is simply on loan.
If it’s not tied down, it might be gone in the morning. Gone with the wind. What’s left will be what we get to work with. And, we’ll work it. It’ll work. I’m certain of it. Don’t ask me why.
I listen to the wind, to the wind of my soul
Where I’ll end up, well I think, only God really knows
I’ve set upon the setting sun, but never, never, never
I never wanted water once
No never, never, never….
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I listen to my words, but they fall far below,
I let my music take me where my heart wants to go;
I’ve swam upon the devil’s lake
But never, never, no never,
I’ll never make the same mistake,
No never, never, no never.
— Cat Stevens, The Wind
