Inherit the Wind

Those old-time Greeks had an interesting paradigm - that everything on the earth was made of some combination of earth, water, wind, fire, and sometimes void. Whole myths and perceptions fell from the minds that fashioned the world thus, and we have some of those same paradigms still around us, dangerous relics from that culture where worship of the human form came nearly above worship of gods, and many ruler’s sole assurance of immortality was either sculpture or public ascension.

If I may broach this subject, one of the more interesting ideas is likely to be untraceably ancient, that of associating human characteristics to those very same four elements. We might say that earth is stable, water is fluid, wind is flighty, and fire is passionate. These are fairly common associations; so common, in fact, that I believe I would be hard pressed to find someone who didn’t intuitively pick up on those associations.

So, another perspective, when evaluating human characteristics, is to ask which of those four attributes (stability, fluidity, flightiness, or passion) would be least desirable as the foundation for a house, for a home, for the basis of one’s centered self. Let us consider each.

Obviously the most desirable is the earth’s namesake: stability. Through stability, one can be assured that a home is a home. We might very well say that the character of a home is its ability to resemble this very quality. Hands down, the favored element, if were forced to pick only one. But no human can live in a vacuum, and stability by itself does not a home make.

Second, I might mention fluidity. Certainly not as desirable as stability, when a home’s foundation is established on water (say a house boat) you still have a fundamentally stable surface. Your home might be mobile (on wheels) or your home might be mobility itself (gypsies) but there is a stability that you carry with you in fluidity.

Third would be passion. Many are the relationship that are established in passion. Some last for years, and either add stability (fire to stone) or fluidity (fire to water); neither of these transitions is easy, but at least one is required for any kind of permanence. And so one must allow for the endurance of fire.

But, ah, to be flighty. The very word conjures up birds flittering about, dancing among burning leaves, spring flowers or summer’s dandelion tufts, and it is in this very winged twittering that I lay focus: there is no rest. And there is no home. So a home which inherits the wind is truly lacking a solid foundation, is truly based on a destructive premise, and is very nearly calling its own demise.

How can one inherit the wind?
The most common way of inheriting the wind is to trouble your own house.

This is bringing the drama of the world inside your bedroom.
This is abusing your own family.
This is stealing from your brother, murdering your sister, laundering goods without telling your family, or any more of dozens of ways in which tumult can be simply and quietly brought into a home.
Its what happens when you sleep on an argument with a spouse.

So how does one choose NOT to inherit the wind?

Don’t bring trouble into your home.
Pray before you enter your house.
Take a moment of silence to honor the dead.
Sit and just calm yourself.

So my challenge to you is this:
Find the one person in your family that causes you the most distress, the most irritation.
Set aside time, five minutes a day, finding a quite space, and, without judgment, find something nice and positive to say about them. You may not have a better relationship with that person (although often it is a fruit of this action) but you will likely be more positive with them AND better able to deal with those idiosyncrasies that were driving you crazy before.

Choose joy.