Once, high above the river of time, Wind was blowing change.
Once between valleys and hills, among houses and gardens, a child stood looking up into the sky.
“What are you looking at?” his mother asked, watching the same clear sky her child was gazing at.
“There,” he pointed up. “Wind,” he added. As if this one word was more than enough.
His mother wondered. His mother trusted.
“Wind,” she repeated, whispering, standing by her child as he continued to gaze directly into a possible, she was not truly seeing.
“Change,” she said to herself, unsure if she was happy about it, relieved, or terrified.
Wind was indeed blowing change.
Wind was dancing in the delight of chaos – free to transform the landscape below her.
That night, the child, cuddled in his bed, refused to go to sleep. His mother, wishing he would let go, tucked him in and offered to read him one last story… Eventually, with his face to the window, he asked her to keep the curtains open. “Wind is coming,” he said with a sleepy smile.
That night, Wind whistled between the houses. At times, her roar sounded as if it were drumming within their house. At times, it felt like a sigh.
Both softly and fiercely, the wind howled and whispered throughout the night. Leaves fell off the trees, branches broke, and were carried miles away.
That night, Wind stormed up above and within the river of time, splashing the whirlpools deep into their source, until everything that needed to shift was set on its innate, natural, ethereal path of beauty.
The boy dreamed of life. Of hope. Of possibilities. His mom tossed in bed, unable to settle, hearing the winds of change strongly knocking at her door.
The boy smiled from one dream to another.
His mom, unsettled, wondered, needing to know.
The next morning, the boy got up, eager and excited for his human adventure. His mom, exhausted from her internal struggle, needed a few long moments before she could join him.
As they stepped outside, she felt Wind swirl around her. The breeze was like a gentle kiss on her forehead. “All is well.” Wind whispered directly into her heart.
The mother wondered… about the alignment between the “all is well” just whispered into her heart and the wreckage she witnessed outside her door.
Wind smiled, blinking at the young child. Joyous at the treasures he noticed everywhere.
“I’ve cleared the path….” Wind whispered to the mother, “Now, it’s up to you to choose….”
Healing stories are a magnificent and fun tool, connecting and bridging worlds.
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Learn more about mythical healing stories here.
