I’m told that in Palestine, the prevailing winds blow from one of two directions, either from the east or out of the west.
The east wind—harsh, cold and cutting—rushes in from across the desert, buffeting the populace with sand, so much so that many times people are forced to take shelter. This wind from the east is a wind that lashes the skin and chills to the bone.
The wind from the west, on the other hand, blows in off the Mediterranean, bringing moist warm air that soothes the cheek and heals the weary soul.
We have no control over the wind, of course; it blows where it will. And no one has ever seen the wind; we only feel the effects of it.
The Greek word for wind—pneuma—is the same word for spirit. Like the wind, no one has ever seen the spirit, only the effects it produces.
A harsh spirit cuts the cheek and chills the soul. A healing spirit radiates warmth and soothing balm to friend and foe alike.
Although we have no control over the wind, we can exercise control over the spirit. We may choose to lash out in a fit of anger and cut our perceived adversary down in the process, perhaps provoking a retaliatory stance.
Or we can elect a better way, choosing to radiate tenderness by way of a listening ear, a kind word or a healing touch.
In Saint Exupéry’s words: “Only the Spirit, if it breathe upon the clay, can create Man.”
by Brian Maurer