Tonight there is a blizzard. It started earlier in the evening and winds are about 35-40 miles per hour with snow. It is a white out. I can barely see the outline of the cabin that is 100 feet from me to the south. I am looking out my bedroom window while typing and although it is 10:00 PM, I can still see outside and all the glistening white. The few street lights are blinking and look like dull yellow eyes glaring through the blowing snow.
I hear the howling~~~~~~~~~~of the wind that rushes and forces it's way into every crack in the house, pushing through the windows and door.
We have to stuff newspapers around the cracks of the door and I have an old wool blanket triple-folded along the bottom of the doorway, with an old comforter laid over that. Even so, the snow has drifted in and lays in the folds of the blankets. We laugh with joy as occasionally the newspapers fly across the room when a strong gale of wind blasts through the cracks around the door frame.
Sometimes the wind slams against the house ~~^^~~^^as if it were using a shoulder to thrust all it's weight, trying to force us to bow down and accept the power of it's strength. The mighty breath of the North yields to no pitiful and puny man. It is only by permission that we are allowed to stay. So it comes to remind us, lest we forget. "Humble yourself in the sight of the Breath of the North!"
Even though we have the oil stove burning, we also built a fire in the woodburning stove. The comfort of it's smell and seeing the flames, encourage and soothe us while we listen to the scolding, singing and sighing of the windsongs.
The village is tucked away, in the warmth of the glow of family and friends. There are no shrill sounds of the snow machines, no rumble of four-wheelers. Only an occasional sound of the engines from the four circled beasts (the automobiles and their tires), perhaps taking water or oil to a family or friend. Hurry, hurry as the night darkens.
I pray that no wondering soul, thirsty for the poison water lingers into the storm. Even in this isolation, we suffer from that vile serpent water that steals the manliness from our men and the tenderness of our women. Crushing out the peace of their souls, the peace of the village. Robbing the relationships between parents and children, between families and friends. Stealing the ability of the village to have unity towards the betterment of their health and the livelihood of subsistence hunting and fishing.
Someone asked me, "What do you think peace means."
"I believe it is communication and unity. It is being honest by being myself, expecting the same from others. It is not trying to be perfect. Just trying to be myself, not having a facade. Seeking to have unity.........being in one accord. When you see a group of people together in one accord, you will see things happen. As we continue to work together, as we continue to communicate, we will see a greater ability to make things happen for the betterment of the whole."
The wind is changing direction, I can hear the swirling and it has laid a blanket of snow over the bedroom window, till I can no longer see the outline of the cabin next door. I hope my neighbors are safe and have plenty of oil for their stove.
Hoooooooowwwwwwwwwllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll~~~~~~~~~>
from the wind````~~~~>
Peter Daniel and I will sleep well tonight, but we'll be careful to take turns and check the fire all night..............now I lay me down to sleep.................
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