Between the Winds

The howling winds  that have cut a grand gallery through this stone continue their work. The sound, it pierces the mind, rendering thought cleft, jagged.It is here that those who wish to divorce themselves from thought, to be at one, and yet nothing, with the present come. In a melody, at times beautiful, at times eerie, the Students of No-Mind chant upon rock spires with the winds. 

As a visitor you at first realize you are hearing the voice of another person. Then, the echo is denied as the winds come. You try to reflect on the union of these sounds, but thoughts are pulverized before maturation. You are left with rough, dry rock and thought denying sound. The winds shift, and you laugh at your discomfort, your weakness, like a roller coaster rider walking away on queasy knees. Then the winds return and you find the rock a comfort; leaning on ancient pillars. The striations of varying color and coarseness present their majesty to your fingertips and eyes as you descend to find sitting more appealing than standing. 

The winds pause, but the chanting does not. You think how foolish it was to waste your last thought on mirth and begin to fear. How fragile we are, how tender and weak. When the winds return you have already turned you head to the ground. You envelope your head in arms and rest forehead to Earth. The tears begin, then the body shaking sobbing. Tension has left your back and your spine has opened but, you don't notice. The same air those sounds ride on goes into your lungs. You stop shaking as you stop trying to fight, stop trying to deny or fear. You are between the winds, or you are not.

(c) Michael Mosher 2010