At a local campground, during a blustery, moonlit evening I was walking slowly, inhaling the wonderful scent of the remnants of campfires, when I heard what sounded like voices on the wind . This happened several times in the span of a few minutes. Now it was close to 3 am so most campers were sleeping. It was a haunting moment and it was hard to make logical sense of it. I think it may have been a distortion in the sound of the frogs doing there nightly chattering because of the wind. But it awoke a deep sense of mystery in me. A sort of buried, mythic, memory. Maybe because it sounded like a language that perhaps I once knew. The meaning of the words just out of reach. The tone of the dialogue was ominous, like a warning. Well what does one do with something like this? Very illogical concoctions of an overactive imagination? Or perhaps it was something more. But whatever was the truth behind this occurrence I felt something deep within me awaken. And that is fertile ground for an artist such as I to create inspired work.
There is much noise in this modern world. The pace is quick. The distractions are endless. I believe if one can simplify their life and slow it down that the muddy waters of the mind will settle and you may hear ancient voices on the wind from a time where nature wasn't even a word it was just reality. Where people flowed with natural rhythms of life and the sacred was everywhere and we asked much less of the Earth.
So I don't know what I heard that blustery evening but it was a reminder that perhaps I need to listen more and embrace the intuitive even more. I need to see the sacred in the small and the mighty things. And also never forget that all that is born will die so take nothing for granted, no one for granted. See the mythic in us all. That which is beyond words. That which makes us feel alive and connected. As Joseph Campbell once said so well, "I don't believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the experience of being alive."