The wind is not making any sound. You can’t listen to the wind. But you can hear the wind in a field of wheat. You can hear the wheat whispering! In today’s escapism, for example.
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Thank you for your attention, yours truly, Mr. Wunderlich
Can you hear the wind? No. No one can hear the wind. You do not hear air moving. What you do hear is the air moving … well … things. When you play the flute, you don’t hear the air, you hear the flute vibrating.
When you think of the sound of the wind, what do you hear in your brain? Because this tells, where you’ve grown up. If you hear it whistling around houses, you grew up in the city.
And if you hear the wheat whispering, you grew up on a farm. Maybe you know very well, what a field looks like. How the earth is not telling what will sprout inside of it in spring. And how the little green seedlings do not promise a rich harvest at all.
Maybe you know that wheat just looks like gras after some weeks. Because wheat is somehow gras. When you take a bite of your bread, you are eating gras. You chew on earth, water and sunlight.
If you grew up on a farm, you may know the colour of wheat. What is its colour? The colour of wheat is golden. Because a field full of wheat means wealth. And food. And well-being.
Maybe you even spent time lying in the wheat looking into the clouds and listening to the sound the wind makes when it plays the wheat like a flute. And: If you have not done that yet: You should. You really should. It’s a symphony – I can promise you that. A symphony in wheat.