The Wild and Wicked Winds of March Essay by Henry Nicolle
tradition, March is a windy month. Frigid Old Winter is blown
into the past and the lusty promises of a new Spring and Summer whine
and worry about us, in contrary gusts. Such too, is the innocence
of America, as she rides into the tumult.
March has older
traditions than innocence and promise. Mars, the God of war, the
color of blood. The blood of Saint and Sinner alike sense the
changes which ride the early zephyrs of political, social and financial
sea change as the smoke and ash ride the winds of war.
god, Mars, represented more than simple war. Mars was regarded as
the protector of the land and of crops, the fruit of the land. To
Romans, Mars was the father of Romulus, the founder of the Roman
nation, later to be the famed Empire of Rome. The sounds are familiar
March is a time of change. March is a time for
preparation. March is a time for beginning. We might ask "What
change? What preparation and what beginning?"
For a man who
named himself Julius Caesar, the changes of March were great for both
the man and the nation. "Beware the Ides of March"was the warning given
to him. On the Ides of March, Julius declared himself the forever
dictator of Rome. It is said, that as he approached the Senate,
he greeted the one who had carried the warning with a jest, "the Ides
of March has come. (and nothing of it)." To which the seer
responded, "Aye Caesar, but not gone."
If this March brings to us the changes so long overdue for our society, we are unthinking and therefore, unprepared.
expiring winter has brought us a March accompanied by ancient
traditions. These ring true, reflecting the hardscrabble of our current
existence in the United States of America. Our Rights, our Liberty, our
Peace have vanished as quietly as drafts under the doors of our
legislatures. The Great American Experiment was betrayed at the start
by Alexander Hamilton and others, betrayed at the middle by Abraham
Lincoln and others and again today, a time when “others” usurp and rule
behind the straw men who inhabit the Wicker Man of American leadership.
March is a time to prepare the land for our food and sustenance, to
preserve our land for our future in self determination and to prepare
for war to preserve our Republic, the defender of our individual and
inherent rights and liberty of their free exercise.
The odor of
rot and the aroma of freedom are so thoroughly mixed in our society
that the great majority of us cannot discern the one from the
other. Accordingly, the great number of our society surround
themselves with the detritus of corrupted honor, of uncomprehended
morality and ethics, of unpayable and inescapable debt, of flagrant
abuse of power, of wars for the sake of war and for the profits and
powers that accrue to those who supply and wage them, of the contempt
of public servants for those who have entrusted them to govern
faithfully, of the openly defiant judiciary and of other officials for
our authority to make the laws under which they are commanded to obey,
of treason, which has brought the false blossoms and paper promises of
prosperity to a Winter from which no wind may bring us relief. They
believe themselves free and prosperous, plastered with dung and disease
of the soul.
The Promise of Winters Past has morphed into Pagan
Changes carried on the winds of March. The view ahead is not clear,
there is smoke and darkness. The vision of imagination is blurred by
blood and whispered warnings are hurried away on the howls of the Winds
I believe that we are past the great Winter of our
Republic. Now, we shall observe if we have learned enough to reject the
false promises of liars and traitors. Will we surrender to idleness and
poverty of semi-comfort? Or will we fly the Winds of March into a
Spring of renewal of Individual Rights and Liberty, to begin a period
of self-determination and prosperity and bear with gladness the
individual uncertainty and responsibility which accompany the adventure
of true Liberty and self-determination?
It will be a contest
which will be shared globally, with ordinary Americans in the eyes of
the never-free as the Icons of individual Rights and Liberty in mortal
combat with the advocates of mundane human emptiness, village
poverty and universal hopelessness.
If you will not know and act
today when your hand and voice are necessary, you will howl when the
March winds pass from our time, unrewarded and immaterial.