When I was young the Northern Desert of Montana was a source of comfort. Late on a summer evening I could go out onto a bluff, sit, and listen to the wind. It would blow warm and comfortable upon my face, and if I listened real hard I would hear my name blowing in on the wind. In Northern Montana at the height of summer the sun stays out for quiet a long time compared to the latitudes of New Hampshire. If you draw a line along the latitudes of my home town of Havre following the proper curve of the globe, you will find yourself at a little higher up than Quebec city in Montreal. That's because of the angular alignment of our continental shelf, and the simple curve of the Earth.
The Northern Desert, that's High Plains to those in the know, sits almost dead center in the grain belt of the United States and Canada, the High Desert. Some have called the wind Mariah, makes a good song lyric, my grandmother's folk would say Tate the wind, or Topa Tate, the four winds. I'll just say Grandpa Wind.
Sitting up high on a bluff and listening to the wind used to be a thing. Today people just look at you weirdly. Of course if you do things right, there's no one around to look at you in the first place.
Solitude is a great teacher, and a great council. Practicing solitude as part of our thing from time to time can bring us that much closer to a possible beginning, a possible enlightenment. Listening for answers from sources outside those of standard normality is a practice of great patience and reverence. If a person is a believer in otherworldly things, that listening becomes the beginnings of faith a path to the spirit. I'm not talking about religion, I'm speaking of spirituality and enlightenment, the Great Awakening.
When it comes to you, you won't be expecting it, it will just appear in you and the knowing will be. And all this writing will only be an exercise of tossing words to those who will catch.
I used to sit on the bluff and listen to the wind, I heard it calling my name, I had learned to listen.
Peace and Balance,
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