If someone asked you what colour is the wind, what would you say?
Would you answer quite seriously, ‘It’s see-through, transparent, with a few bits here and there of whatever it has picked up’ or would you know that there is more to it than that?
To feel the wind, paying little heed to it other than its inconvenience or perfect timing, means little, but to consider it and see its colour move and curl around you…well, your opportunity for paramount experiences are unlimited. Yes I’ll admit it is a little bit ‘hippy’, but try it. Stand still, you can feel it. Don’t close your eyes, that won’t do. Open them; you can see it. It’s social, political, caring. It’s moody and sensitive. It’s emotional and it is all for you.
A deep red the day of the Soweto uprising, pure white the day the Berlin wall came down. It blew red, blue, green, white, black and gold, colours of a new tomorrow, a new South Africa, the day Nelson Mandela left the gates a free man.
It blows a soft yellow for those who are content, a warm apricot that rustles the leaves. It’s aquamarine to cool a hot day. It blows black as the eye of a storm when it is restless, and hazy grey when it is tired. It’s sapphire green when all is at peace.
It blows magenta for fun and cobalt blue coming off of the sea. Purple and teal, dramatic and bold, for the days it chooses to dance. It’s electrified and bright every time an artist takes the stage; it’s somber and moody shades for string musicians.
It’s a silver tinge beating against your window as you sit at the mantle, watching the rain and sleet. It’s taupe breezing through the trees. It blows fiery red for those hurt and unprotected and it’s dark blue for those who are in mourning.
Feel it, as you stand there. See it whip around you in colourful hues. The wind is alive with emotion; open your mind. It’s whirling around you, inquisitive and curios. It feels all for you. It wants you to see. Open your eyes.