There’s a wind farm in rural Indiana; you can drive right through the middle of it. There I was driving south on I-65 headed from Chicago to see my family in Tennessee for Christmas. Just as hills begin to roll gently and I’m sighing, sentimental at the sight of the heartland, they appear. Windmills! Giant windmills, to the left and to the right as far as the eye can see.
Every time I drive through, I’m stunned into silence. I want to be glad and have moments of saying "Good for you Indiana; good for us people, making this wind farm!" But, I get an eerie sensation like I’ve stepped too far into the future; like I’m a character in an early chapter of an Octavia Butler novel. I can’t remember if Ms. Butler wrote about windmills but if she’d seen this she’d have been as compelled as I am. By their size and due to their number, they are the definition of awesome. I look in all directions but there aren’t any trees of similar grandeur left in the area. And there’s something eerie about the barns and houses so close to them. I wonder/worry about the people and the animals living and growing in the midst of this farm. What happens when you live on a farm that raises wind?
Raising wind? Now that’s power.
I know a little bit about power. In sacred circles I’ve drawn down the moon and used that power for personal transformation. In response to injustice I’ve raised my voice with others and used that power to compel change socially. In classrooms I’ve raised consciousness; in social settings I’ve shifted perceptions; in the face of rudeness I’ve raised hell.
But raising the Wind? This sort of stuff falls into the jurisdiction of the mightiest wizards and witches. Raising the wind…who is raising this wind and don’t they think that they need to ask somebody? Alternative fuel is here. I know. I am suddenly living in the future. But I wonder: Don’t we need to ask somebody about this powerful, powerful magic? Did anyone ask the birds and the leaves what they thought about raising all that wind? Do we have any idea how long it takes to raise wind? When is it ripe; when is it ready? Does it need a fallow season?
How can we call on the power that we want and need? What is the price of that power?
Time will tell. We will witness.
Time will tell. We will witness.
