The Words of Wind

Blowing in the Wind

"How many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just doesn't see."
Bob Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind"

Can you hear Dylan's voice whispering in the wind? Do you dare to listen? Are you afraid? Of what?

The wind whispers to me, and I am whispering to you. What is a whisper if not a puff of wind? This is the message Wind gives me. "Cain must stop slaying Able." The agriculturalist that has become the industrialist must stop killing off the natural. In killing Able, the nomadic tribal cultures grounded in nature, we are committing suicide. Our unloving death is mirrored in the concrete world we have built that mirrors our concrete, industrialized, standardized minds. We must mourn and allow this death if we are to move on and heal.

Our isolation exists due to a humanity divided by the stagnant political and scientific ideas of our days that have nothing to do with the organic essence of life. Can you hear Wind cry in mourning for the dead creatures created by men entrenched in these ideas? Yet, Wind continues to blow. She howls in mourning over the death of our lives reflected in our love affairs with televisions, computers, and I-Pods. No longer does she inspire us as she did in the old days. Instead we descendents of Cain are inspired by the Barbie and Ken Dolls created by "The Man" to entertain us and seduce us into becoming consumers of the world.

Breathe the teachings of Wind deeply, Cain. You have just about killed off Able in his totality. Now, inhale the raw pollution you produced in Earth's sacred rivers. Breathe deep, the gathering gloom. The depression of the land mirrors the depression eminent in your streets. Can you see the same pollution in the minds of the corporate and political executives that exists in your life? What is the difference between them and the common thug on the street? Can you see the same pollution in our alienated adolescents that express their discontented alienation in delinquency?

Cancer cells are defined as growth gone wild. What does this mean to you, Cain? It means you, in your industrial, empirical mindset, have become a cancer. Unlimited growth saturates your mind which sits as a King in the heads of your corporate and governmental leaders. Can cancer cells awaken? Brother, I'm not sure anymore. What is the future of our children if corporate and political growth destroys our host's body? I'm not sure there is a future. Can we care enough for our children to leave this way of life? I wish I could believe that we can. Or, do we only wish to keep feeding like a cancer cell, and destroy our host's body, and, ultimately, our self? There has to be hope. Can we declare peace, Cain?

Take a hard look at the Wal-Marts, the chains of restaurants, drug stores, and groceries. Does their death appearing appearance appear to you as reflecting something that's dead in you? You murder Able and have written your own death warrant. Taste the food from your supermarket shelf, Cain. Your mass producers serve you the non-living. They are like vampires, the living dead, sucking the life out of you. Transport a tomato from thousands of miles, how alive can it be when it gets to you? The mass produced death of our standardized food reflects our standardized suburbs, industries, and schools. Are you in your mass-produced standardized world truly alive? Is the havoc you are reaping on the environment a reflection of the death of your Souls? Are you perhaps the walking dead? Murder your brother, you murder yourself.

Now, Cain, try an experiment. Go pull a tomato off a vine, one that is grown in healthy soil. The taste will joyfully explode in your mouth. This is because it is healthy and it wants you to be healthy. Your health and its health are integral to the planet's health. Perhaps this is the true way to your resurrection. Begin with something basic, Cain, like eating a tomato. Is there hope?

Cain, the ghost of your brother calls to you. He calls to you through all the voices of indigenous peoples throughout the world. The Native American, the Asian, the Aborigines of Australia. Can you see yourself reflected in their face? What would they say to you? What would Able say? Can you see his tears falling in the sincere loss he feels when he looks into your lifeless eyes? Ah, Cain, perhaps in making peace with your brother your resurrection could be at hand?