From My Nature Journal: Uitwaaien

Ebey's Landing State Park beach, bluff in background

Had a white-knuckle winter walk at dusk last evening along the beach at Ebey’s Landing State Park -- stinging winds, fifty and sixty mile-per-hour blasts, car-sized waves, gale warnings on sea, high wind warnings on land. Recalling similar balance-challenging walks like that from butte tops in central Colorado, gusts seemed to penetrate through my body, clothes flapping, ears splitting, skin tingling. As long as I’m safe from hypothermia, I’ve always experienced winds like this as exhilarating, refreshing, even spirit cleansing.

Who knew that the Dutch had a word for that, and with characteristic vowel-rich Dutchness to boot!

I receive a daily word of the day on my phone from Dictionary.com, and it surprises me, for an English language dictionary, how often these can be foreign-language terms. I’ve certainly never heard most of them in conversation! The word is uitwaaien, only three consonants in the nine letters. Wouldn’t THAT be a way to use up all those vowels at the end of a Scrabble game! 

First, try pronouncing it. Uitwaaien. 

If you came up with out-vine, you’d be correct. I wasn’t even close. And here’s the definition: the Dutch practice of jogging or walking into the wind, especially in the winter, for the purpose of feeling invigorated while relieving stress and boosting one’s general health. I can’t say that I disagree with the concept at all. But does that mean that the return walk is stressful and depressing? Probably not, just watch your balance, especially on a bluff or cliff trail. 

Last night, as often before, the powerful impression for me as a Jesus-follower is wind as the piercing breath of God’s Holy Spirit, blowing through me, flowing through me, enlivening, quickening, enervating, purging. “The breath of heaven,” I say. Some would say, “It’s just wind!” On the contrary, with this I do disagree, having often experienced the synergies of spiritual realities and natural wonders. Why ever would one think that God doesn’t routinely communicate through both the simple and grand things of his natural world? God is an artist, a master designer, with much to teach through his works. 

In this particular case, I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn:

Breathe on me, breath of God.

Fill me with life anew,

That I may love what Thou dost love

And do what Thou wouldst do.

Breathe on me, breath of God

‘Til I am wholly Thine,

Until this earthly part of me

Glows with Thy fire divine.

~~ Edwin Hatch, 1878

The NOAA high wind warning last evening has downgraded to an advisory overnight, but perhaps I’ll get out later today for another go at it, and this time maybe even go up the bluff, careful for my footing.

Get outside. Or, shall I say, “Get uitwaaien.” My mother always said there was a little Dutch in us kids anyway.

~~ RGM, February 26, 2021

From My Nature Journal: Spirit Wind

It was a blustery hike today, initially quite labored, up the Bluff Trail of Ebey’s Landing National Historic Reserve on Whidbey Island. Fifty mph gusts raised sand that stung the face and smarted the eyes. Steep grade and strong gale combined, and I strained to oppose them. At times my balance required catching as I leaned into the wind.

But, once on the bluff, I stopped, set the labor aside and let the wind sweep over me in a way as to nearly feel it softly piercing, blowing through my body as a sieve, an almost cleansing sensation. I seemed to swim, or was it flying? I thought of the old Keith Green song, Rushing Wind:

            Rushing Wind, blow through this temple,

            Blowing out the dust within.

            Come and breathe Your breath upon me:

            I’ve been born again.

God’s breath. Breath of heaven.

                                              

The Spirit of God has made me, and the breath of the Almighty gives me life. (Job 33:4)

The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit. (John 3:8)

~~ RGM, May 30, 2017

QOTM...*: C.S. Lewis and the Season of the Aspen

(*Quote of the Month)

Here in Colorado it is the season of the aspen. Elevations above six thousand five hundred feet have come alive with the tree, complimenting the evergreens. Aspens actually are part of a broad and ubiquitous family of trees that show themselves in widely diverse habitats across the United States and elsewhere – including poplar or ‘popple,’ the many varieties of birch, even cottonwoods – a family of trees called populus. Several of them proliferate here, but it’s the aspen most people watch for. They present the first hesitant new green of a mountain spring and later turn golden in September, drawing people to the high country in hordes to behold their lush glory.

Each of these species of trees, however, has one thing in common: their leaves quake. It has to do with the way in which the leaf stem is shaped. Typically, deciduous leaf stems are round; not so populus. Next time you are near one of these trees, get close enough to pluck a leaf and you will find that the stem is actually flattened somewhat. This allows the leaf to pick up even the slightest whisper of a breeze and quiver just a bit (like the difference in flexibility between a short piece of rope and the same length of strap). It’s why one of the colloquial names for aspen is ‘quaking aspen.’ With that leaf in your hand, give it the slightest of shakes and watch it quake. Now multiply that near silent sound by fifty thousand or so, unless it’s a grove (which it usually is), in which case multiply by a million or more! I love the sound. There are aspens next to our backyard deck, and the sound often grabs my attention there or when I hike. Cottonwoods tend to give the loudest rustle as they have the largest leaves.

The rustling of leaves… Is there a lovelier note in the melody of natural music? Some can match it – a robin’s night song, the rhythm of waves, ‘whispering’ pines – but none can surpass it.

I’m glad Clive Staples Lewis knew that sound, as it helped him form the image for a thoughtful reflection that provides my quote of the month:

At present, we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door... We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumour that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.

C.S. Lewis… I am surprised it has taken me this long to share a quote from him! A prolific writer of the mid-20^th Century, Christian apologist, member of the English faculty at Oxford and then Cambridge, and active colleague in Oxford’s Inklings society (along with Lord of the Rings author J.R.R. Tolkien and others), he is perhaps most well known for his Chronicles of Narnia, a series of allegorical fantasy tales beautiful in their own right, but really telling the story of God’s redemption of the world. If you have missed it along the way, and especially if you have kids, check your public library for a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and read it aloud; it will capture young and old alike. But his apologetic writing is remarkable as well (The Screwtape Letters, The Problem of Pain, Mere Christianity [voted by Christianity Today the best book of the 20^th Century], etc.), all rife with an earthy understanding of the Christian faith and how to express it to those without a Christian worldview.

This particular quote is from Lewis’ well-known sermon, “The Weight of Glory.” At this point, he is reflecting upon the difference between a merely physical understanding of life, and a broader, spiritual one: a person who may not yet appreciate a spiritual worldview might be likened to one who would observe nature from inside a building, without realizing he is on the wrong side of the door. The hope is that the rustling leaves outside might draw us there to observe the splendors available to us if we will only avail ourselves to them. And so our getting ‘out’ may actually be the key to our getting ‘in.’

Jesus himself said, “You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that. You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next. That’s the way it is with everyone born from above by the wind of God, the Spirit… (John 3:8).”

My friends, listen. A breeze is gently blowing and the leaves are starting to quake. Pay attention to the sound. It’s gentle, but that is the customary character of the voice of God.

~~RGM, June 26, 2014