Winds of Change

My body lay crumpled in the corner. I was crying. I was dying.

Of course it wasn’t meant to end that way. It was a common story, really. I was only trying to prove a simple truth. Yet when left to my own desires and no boundaries I proved the only thing I was capable of proving. There was nothing in me of any value.

It started sincerely enough. I was listening to a prominent fellow of great worldly recognition (whose name I have long since forgotten) speak on the origins of the universe. His propositions appeared reasonable and rationale, filled with haughty jargon well beyond my mind, and wrapped up with a succinct and satisfying conclusion. The universe, as well as the earth and its inhabitants, was born from a coalescence of fortunate, if random, occurrences. To put it in terms I could understand, this wise mind offered the illustration that given an infinite amount time and opportunity, wind gusting through the open doors and windows of a house could make a messy room clean and organized.

That’s when inspiration struck! I had been so burdened in my life with people around me who insisted that the universe was created by some grand scheme and designer that it was more than I could bear. Now I had been touched with the perfect way to prove them all wrong.

Now I didn’t live in a particularly windy region, nor did I have power over the air myself, but I did have the next best thing: my gleaming red and black 12,000 horse power leaf blower extraordinaire! (Ok, a bit of an exaggeration on the horsepower, but enough to get the job done). I was also fortunate enough to have a particularly messy room in the back of my house, one filled with papers and knick knacks strewn about, sprinkled with rubbish from the past few days.

I could hardly contain myself as I raced home to prove the theory. I opened every window of that offending room, strapped on my scientific instrument of choice, and cranked it up. A gentle whirring soon burst into a high pitched buzz, and the animal was belting out a storm of invisible fury at the mess inside. Papers and tiny forgotten items flew through the air, spinning and dancing, exuberant in their flight. I let the machines music play for half a minute before abruptly shutting it down. When the noise ceased I watched intently as the last remaining pieces floated to their final resting spots.

It was foolish to expect success on the first attempt. But that is just what I desired. When I looked around the room I found that things had not yet been perfected in their place. There were a few pieces of trash that ended up in the can, but more pieces of important documents ended there as well. I was soon gripped by reality and understood that all would not be proven on the first try.

So I ripped the blower again and swung the nozzle around the room. I pushed harder this time, feeling that earlier I was too passive, and this experiment needed more aggression. I flung the nozzle back and forth with determination. The wind whipped viciously about the room with no regard to friend or foe. I watched as all manner of debris swirled around my head. The orbiting objects became so dense that I was blinded to the room and shut down the machine. I squeezed my eyes close and hoped that a perfectly organized room would be my reward.

Once again I was disappointed. I scanned the room to find things in places where they clearly did not belong. Even trash that had been in the trashcan was now displaced. But what really caught my attention was a small porcelain figure, a white sheep that had been sitting on a shelf, now lay in pieces on floor. It had been evicted from its home and shattered on the unforgiving tile. This was going to cause a problem.

But I was not deterred. If anything I was invigorated. I was going to show just how right I was. Not only would my experiment yield a neat and tidy living space, but it was going to fix that which I had broken. (And if not, it would certainly somehow end up in the trash, and I could dismiss the destruction to user error.)

So I began with reckless abandon. I followed a pattern of running my blower for thirty seconds, shutting it down, and examining the results. Some tests were better than others, but each view was distinct. I was undeterred, buoyed by the fact that no two aftermaths were the same, and eventually I would hit upon the jackpot.

I became obsessed. I lost track of time. Day turned into night and back to day many times. Over and over I had to feed my machine and with each intrusion I got more frustrated at wasting time. I did not eat, drink, nor sleep. I was focused on a task that had to succeed.

That’s when the physical overcame me. It was during one of the rotations of darkness that I finally collapsed, slamming my head against the floor. I did not lose consciousness but in hindsight wish I had. For as I felt a thin stream of blood trickle down my face I heard soft footsteps approaching from the side. It was all I could do to throw off the machine and struggle to sit back against the wall. My breathing was heavy and my sight weak. Through blurred vision I saw a man come close and kneel down as he placed his hand on my forehead.

“Who are you?” I insisted.

“You are hurt,” he said calmly. “What are you trying to do?”

“I need to prove it,” I panted through the fog. “I need to prove how we came to be.”

“Curiosity is not a bad thing,” he replied gently as he tended my head. I tried to make out his face, but I couldn’t focus. “I can help you.”

“You can help?” I chuckled. “I’ve been at this for a long time. I don’t think you can help.”

“What is it you need?”

The question was stated so confidently that I had to ponder my response. I concluded it was folly to hope for anything from this stranger. He couldn’t give me what I really needed. So I tested him. “You really want to help me? Give me endless energy and an infinite amount of time. That’s what I really need.”

The man did not respond to my ludicrous request. He simply stood up and walked away. I tried to stand and follow him but collapsed against the wall. The night was silent and I cried out into the darkness for the man to return. There was only silence and finally I was overwhelmed by exhaustion.

Sometime later my eyes opened slowly to find that it was still dark. I groped around the room and came upon my blower lying next to me. I tried to stand and found that sleep did me better than I could have hoped. When I got to my feet I was filled with a strength I had not known for a very long time. My mind was clear and focused and I had a resolve that was beyond words. I looked around the room and smiled. The obsession was now under my control. I was going to win.

I flung my machine over my back and attacked the room. Over and over again I fought and failed. But I was not saddened or deterred. My strength was not leaving me and my mind was not failing. Night turned back into day and day back into night. But that seemed like an instant. The days and nights crowded together in a string that had no beginning or end. I did not grow weary, and my beast did not need refreshed, for we were on a mission. Time became insignificant as with each failure to produce a perfect room was met with intensity to make it work the next time. I refused to stop. I had a singular purpose.

If I knew how long I struggled I would hardly believe it. But the truth is I fought through my lifetime and many others. To my credit I never gave up those long years that turned into decades and beyond. I was so certain that I could prove the randomness of creation that I failed to see creation at all. The gift I was given to prove out my experiment was lost on me. Lost, that is, until it was finally taken away.

It was dark then, much as it had been long ago when I first met that man. Whatever generation of failure I was on finally laughed at me as I heard a great stroke of thunder pass overhead and rain begin to sprinkle on my head. I was inside, but the moisture I felt belied my sense of protection. Finally the rain became too much to ignore and I lifted my head to peer at the ceiling.

I gasped in horror at what I saw. As I gazed upward, rain pouring in my face, I noticed not a leak in my roof, but gaping holes in what I thought only moments before had been a sturdy structure. I looked around at the walls a ceiling too find that they too were lacking integrity. Windows were busted and drywall lay smashed on the ground. The wood frame was eaten by time and inattention. My house was crumbling around me.

I grabbed my chest and fell backwards. Reeling, I felt all my strength leave, and dropped my machine and crashed against the wall. That is why I was weeping.

How long had it been? Why had I been cursed so? The pain of defeat was worse than any physical malady I could conjure. I felt death approaching and nothing on which to grab hold. I was too weak to even take my own life if the opportunity arose.

But through the darkness and rain I saw a man. I thought my eyes deceived me, for it reminded me of the same man that long ago tended to my head. He approached me again in the same way, though now I was very afraid.

“What have you done?” I screamed. The man said nothing and stretched out his hand. “Please, don’t let me die,” I begged.

“Take my hand,” he replied. Reluctantly I grasped for it, and he lifted me to my feet. He led me around the house, and without saying a word, made me understand what had happened. My house lay in ruin, defeated not by man but by time, and outside all manner of nature had been reborn. I was surrounded by an army of trees, brush, vines and weeds that took advantage of my departure.

The man led me back to where we started. I surveyed the room. It too lay in ruin, and for too long I had been blind to its deterioration.

“All I wanted to do was prove our origin,” I said as I looked over at the man. “It was going to be a triumph.”

“But you did prove it,” the man said as he gestured to the shell of my home. “Don’t you see?”

My shoulders slumped. “All I see is a wasted life.”

The man shook his head. “No! You were given a gift. You had all the time, all the strength, all the determination you needed to prove how it all came together. And you did!”

“Ha!” I cried. “It was an abysmal failure!”

“Through random actions, over the course of infinite time, there was nothing intentional you could do,” the man said. He walked over near the remnants of a shelf and picked something off the ground. “But when things are done intentionally, with a purpose,” he said as he stretched out his hand and showed me the broken pieces of the white porcelain sheep I laid to waste long ago, “then order can be achieved.” The man closed his hand and placed upon a remnant of shelving my sheep, whole and new.

“How did you….?” I started, but before I got too far realization washed over me. I had proven how we came to be. It just wasn’t what I expected.

I fell to my knees before the man. “I am so sorry. I have wasted everything for a lie!”

“No,” he replied as he put his hand back on my head. “You have been given a gift. Go home now, and tell what you have learned.”

The tears the flowed from my eyes matched the intensity of the storm. “I am home and it is ruined. Everything is gone! I am lost!” The man pressed his hand hard against my head, and soon I felt a curtain of warmth flow over me. I slid into a deep sleep on the floor as rain massaged my body.

When I awoke the bright morning sun was flowing through my surprisingly fully functional window. This window was attached to the solid undisturbed frame of a complete house. I jumped up and looked around to find my room was filled with the same mess I remembered from the first day I set out to prove a lie.

 A smile crossed my face and heart. I was home. I walked around the room and began to gather things together and put them in their rightful spot. “With a true intention, and a true design, I will make this place in order again.”    

I did. When I was finished, I closed the doors and window, lest a rogue gust of wind pass through and disrupt everything.