© by Nick Grimshawe

 

I ask you to believe one thing, as I do, that trees and wind share a common language, from that one belief all else is possible.

 

 

“I am free,” said the Wind to the Willow.

 

“Free from what,” the Willow asked.

 

“Noooooo,” blew the Wind, “not free from, free to be.”

 

“I just want freedom from my roots, then I could tramp across that field, to that rich fertile spot right there.”  The Willow pointed a branch with the help of the wind.

 

 

“Nooooooo, “ said the Wind again, “ you want to be free to move to that spot.”

 

“I hardly see the difference,” said the Willow, who is known to be a bit weepy.

 

 

“Ohhhh, “ said the Wind, “there is a whole world of difference.”

 

 

“Explain, “ snapped the Willow petulantly.

 

“Wellll, I am free to be anything at all, that I want to be. I can be a little breeze gently ruffling your leaves……”

 

“…I like it when you do that…”

 

“…or I can be a hurricane, or a tornado, or a freezing chill, or a hot dry Sahara. I can be anything! I can race up the hills and the mountains, rush down a green valley, ripple the water of a lake, push the clouds across the sky.”

 

“But, “ sniffled the Willow, “once I am free from my roots I can be all those things to…can’t I?”

 

“An axe or a saw can free you from your roots,” howled the wind, “do you want that?”

 

 

“Ahhh,”

 

“Offf course you don’t. Having no roots does not grant you freedom to be something, anything. Freedom from your roots is a passive thing.

They freed the slaves, told them they were free from slavery, but forgot to give out the instruction booklet of how to be something other than a slave.

 

You can say you are free from want if some one gives you food and shelter. Are you free?”

 

“…ahhhh…..?”

 

“You can be free from fear… and not do anything more than that. To be free to speak your mind in the face of adversity, now that is another matter. Do you see?”

 

 

The Willow swayed in the wind, uncertain which way the Wind would blow.

 

“But how can I be free to walk this earth, I am bound my roots,” cried the Willow.

 

“Other trees have walked,” replied the Wind.

 

“What, in some fantasy? Don’t be absurd,” whined the Willow.

 

The Wind sighed with a might heaving of wind, which whipped the branches of the Willow all about.

 

“You can be free to be what ever you want, it’s a decision, a state of mind, a different way to looking at the world, at yourself. All you have to do is decide you are free to be… and then believe. Come on try it.”

 

The Willow groaned with effort, the leaves on its branches trembling with strain.

 

“You can do it” called the Wind, swilling the debris on the ground up into the air.

 

“Believe,” howled the wind, “Decide you are free to be anything you want to be. Believe.”

 

I felt the shifting of the earth as I listened, then the cry of joy.

 

“I am not free from my roots, I don’t need to be… I am free to be the best Willow in Kingdom of the Willows.”

 

“I knew you could be,” said the Wind in whisper.

 

The ground shifted again.

 

“An I will reach that fertile spot eventually, cause I am free to be what ever I want to be.

 

Thank you Mr Wind. Come stroke my leaves where ever you shall find me.”

 

As I walked a way, the Wind whispered to me, “you to are free to be anything you want, you have the power.”

 

 

Nick Grimshawe