The Gusting Winds of Silence

Last Wednesday was undoubtedly an unusual day in Manhattan. The energy in the city was unique: People seemed less intense, more polite and possibly more peaceful. New Yorkers gathered throughout the city to color, paint, sing, pray and write messages of peace. I found myself gravitating farther south as I wandered the streets, floating through Union Square, Washington Square, Soho, Tribeca, and finally arriving at the financial district, or more specifically, Ground Zero.

In the past twelve months I never traveled down to the site -- I just couldn’t go. On this one-year anniversary, however, I couldn’t imagine not going. The waves of crying and heartache, the imagery of the “new” Wall Street area and the visions of destruction from last year were constantly interrupted by a peculiar force of nature. Never, in all my years living in New York City have I experienced a wind of such gusting magnitude. Twenty-five miles per hour. Thirty miles per hour. Thirty-five miles per hour. The power of the wind struck me wherever I went, but as I neared Ground Zero the wind’s velocity dramatically increased. Big tin garbage cans tumbled down Broadway. The air was filled with clouds of dirt and gravel from neighboring construction sites and from the great big plot of land that was once home to the fourth tallest structure on the planet. I literally had to put my full body weight and muscular tension into each step I took. It felt as if I were about to get swept off the ground like a delicate feather entering a wind tunnel.

Was it just a coincidence that the winds were in a fury on this particular day? (By the way, the air was perfectly still on the 10th and the 12th.) I suppose it could have been, but it certainly didn’t feel that way. Risking what you might think about what I’m about to say -- I feel certain there was a Presence in that wind. It felt as if thousands of voices joined together to say, “Hey, we are still here. We are with you. We are okay.” Perhaps this is why I cried. Perhaps I cried out of joy and love for all the souls that were watching over the tens of thousands of people that came to pay tribute on this one-year anniversary.

You may not believe what I’m proposing. And perhaps you’re right in doing so. But what if this intuitive feeling is true and the gusting winds of silence was a message to us that those lost souls aren’t lost at all? What if all our lost loved ones are still with us right now?

You are here right now to create magnificent beauty in your own special way -- true beauty is found in the love of all life. May you create an abundance of joy, love and compassion to help heal and evolve our planet.

Love & Happy Journeys!
Scott Jeffrey