This morning I dreamed of the four ancient Gods of the wind: Boreas, God of the North wind, Zephyrus, God of the West wind, Eurus, God of the East Wind, and Notus, God of the South wind. The wind Gods are subservient to Astraeus, their master, who has dominion over all four directions. In my dream the wind Gods were like angels. They appeared as beautiful, winged mythical beings with the grace of a ballerina and the power of an atomic bomb. Each was exquisite to behold, but, like finely honed swords, I understood that their beauty was intrinsically entangled with their ability to inflict pain.
My mind raced to find enlightenment from these Gods of the Wind, for, as every sailor knows, the wind can be friend or foe. It is important - if not imperative - to understand my opponents. In my dream I learned that each of the Gods of the four directions bears certain powers and traits, distinct from one another, and to some degree, predictable.
Zephyrus, the gentlest of the winds, was the most magnificent to behold. He told me that he is the keeper of the rainbow. The other directions think he is the weakest of the four winds, and it is true that he will generally give way to them. His face was illuminated by his wings that were made of spun gold taken from the sun. The nature of the West wind was generally kind and peaceful, but I learned his strength lay in his restraint, wisdom and tenacity. Zephyrus, though not easily provoked, begins his attack softly by caressing his enemy with a gentle, earthy whisper of warm dry air. His enemy cannot resist and instinctively turns his face to greet Zephyrus. To his foes, the gentle caress of the West wind gives way and is gradually replaced by a blast akin to an inferno. Flames spray out his golden lips as he exhales and delivers a breath drawn from the sun. Zephyrus has delivered such an assault on many a sailor, wicking out all form of moisture from his flesh and leaving him withered, cracked and bloodless.
I was then introduced to Notus, who I learned is the great deceiver. She is cunning and wickedly playful. She delights in watching a weary traveler stumble and lose his way as he is blinded by her "gift" of thick fog. By far her greatest strength lies in her ability to lure her victims into her trap. Notus has enticed even the saltiest sailor by whispering a sweet lullaby in his ear. Her soft, moist, warm breath lingers on the sailor’s cheek, and is laced with the intoxicating scent of salt and brine. Every sailor knows the risk of succumbing to the South wind, but alas, all are powerless against her seduction. Once she has rendered her victim defenseless, she unites with Zeus to create great havoc in the sky and sea. Her assault is heralded by deafening claps of thunder followed by searing bolts of lightening. The sea responds by standing straight up in tall, steep, peaks that can send a ship to the bottom like it was riding on rails. The fierceness of her attack, as I came to understand, is commensurate with the degree of warmth and moisture she breathes upon her victim as she is seducing him.
Eurus, the wind of the East, is the most powerful in terms of brute strength, but he is not a vengeful wind. He is not well respected by the other directions, and they mockingly refer to the East wind as “The Great Windbag.” Eurus is simple in nature, and not bothered by a great intelligence. He takes no pleasure in trickery. When he causes a stir, chances are he doesn’t know or mean to do so. Eurus is quick to anger and equally quick to retreat. He has great power but lacks the wisdom to truly harness his power. At first I felt sorry for him in that I knew he had potential he would never be able to reach. I soon came to realize though that the wind of the East has no personal sense of deficiency or inadequacy. How can one miss what they don’t have? Without the wisdom to recognize his own shortcomings, Euros is likewise unable to appreciate any sense of loss.
Unlike Eurus, the North wind is a vengeful wind. The power beheld by Boreas is hailed by men of both the sea and land as the most dreaded of the four directions. Every sailor fears, if not, loathes him. He is strong, brutal and motivated by his insatiable need to conquer. His touch is bitter cold and can turn flesh to ice. Boreas is a dark and foreboding creature, bearing a serpent’s tail and cloven feet. His beard is fringed by small Icicles that twinkle like diamonds. His face is partially obscured by his dark hood, which only permits one a glimpse of the outline of his sharp features. I was afraid to look into his eyes. As I neared his presence the air drew cold and thin. With each breath I took, I felt a chill that reverberated off my ribs and caused my teeth to chatter. Boreas rules his quadrant astride an iron stallion. He devours his enemies by evoking violent storms that send even the best of sea men to the locker of Davey Jones.’
Astraeus, son of Poseidon, was given dominion over the winds. He is the wise father of the sometimes disobedient four directions. His children tolerate and respected each other, but are in a constant battle for supremacy. Their egos are fragile, and, like four billy goats, they constantly butt heads in attempt to gain ground over their siblings. The four directions of the wind can be selfish, spoiled children. When they are in check, there is balance and harmony, but when any one direction gains leeway for too long, havoc can result.
It was only a dream, you say? Maybe so. In truth, I cannot say that I really believe there exists actual entities that rule over the Wind of the four directions, but then again, I am not so sure there aren’t. As a sailor, I know that there is energy that governs the winds and sea. I don’t need to know what that energy is, and maybe it is beyond my comprehension. Nonetheless, I fear, I pay homage, and most of all, I respect the energy of the four directions.
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