Thursday, June 21, 2012

Adobe Winds

I sat in the courtyard of a beautiful adobe home in the outskirts of Santa Fe, New Mexico the other day and listened to the voice of the dry high desert wind.

The courtyard trees translated the thought for me and lulled me into a meditation of awe and expectation. I only had a few minutes of being alone, but it was magnificent and an eternity in a single moment.

The wind sound was not the rustle of an Eastern forest when the wind speaks through the trees.

It was not the clapping voice of the low desert where palm fronds applaud the elegance of a steady wind and slap their appreciation to the All That Is.

It was an undulating hushing human voice of a canyon wind passing and gusting through the Aspens, Pines and Sage.

This is the same wind that has forever honored the Native people of the southwest and it honors each of us for we have the sister and brother winds of breath.

Immediately I felt the presence of a friend whose home this use to be. He passed to the other side and I was here to celebrate his life with a ceremony on the summer solstice.

Requiescat en pace Bob Samples and thank you for filling so many lives with wonder, words, concepts and hugs.

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