Today is our last guest post on cultivating a personal, nature-based spirituality, and my experience is a satisfying mixture of emotions. Foremost I feel grateful to have shared this platform with kindred voices and also fortunate that I have been able to bring them to you. Each one of the stories has had its own qualities of simplicity and grace, and my hope is that they have been validating for the stories in your own life. You mean THAT experience? you ask, The one that I doubted but still had tucked into a corner pocket, because I couldn’t quite dismiss it? Yes, that one.
Tina flows into our morning on a warm spring breeze. From New Zealand and the So. Hemisphere, her days are blessed with bird song and the seedly promise of renewal, just as we in the North are heading into the dark dark dark. As a parting thought to the journey we have been taking together through this series, she declares her love for a non-animal other, a being that can only be known by its influence upon others. The element of air in action…wind.
Tina and her family stayed with us on their USA vacation extraordinaire, and even though it was a few short days (made even shorter by the constant interruption of kids) it was enough to endear her to my heart. Even a year-plus later, I still miss her. She recently wrote a beautiful post about friendship and its ability to endure even through distance or loss. Friendships like this have a bittersweet quality to them…simultaneously lovely and sad, ultimately leaving you feeling blessed. And I do feel that Tina is a blessing, and all her blog friends know it too. Even through words, written from half way around the world, you can still feel the way she listens and loves you, totally present with her heart.
Visit Miss Tina Sparkles at her blog, Teeny and yet not Teeny at all.
You know that gentle warm breeze that softly buffets around your body whilst you stroll down the street on a warm summers eve? Or the gusty insistent invisible pull at your clothes, hair, even whole body sometimes when you’re yahooing about a playground…with children so delighted in the power and violence of the wind that pushes them about?
A good windy day blows the cobwebs away I’m told. And it does.
When it’s an embittered wintry day and people are walking heads down, collars up and hands in pockets. I find that I’m secretly joyous, my heart beating happily with the knowledge that the wind is still there, that I can feel it, making my face cold and trying desperately to find it’s way through my woolly layers of clothing. Smiling madly to myself I delight in it’s efforts…the whoosh through the trees, or the mournful howling around tall buildings and houses; both sounds have me anticipating excitement.
That isn’t to say I don’t also gladden at it’s small flittering caresses when it is less violent, more subdued and tentative even. In those quieter moments it is as if the wind is dancing around me, playing a game of hide and seek. “Still here, still here” it says.
And the children feel it too, right mamas? After a good bustling windy day I go to pick my two children up from school, and the playground is ALIGHT with jumping, screaming, running children. They feel the energy too. The parents look at each other and nod in wise earnestness, “yes” we say, “it’s the wind, makes them go crazy”. And I revel in this. The wind is a plaything for kids, effortlessly tossing them to and fro – a parent that doesn’t tire from playing….no wonder they make such a happy partnership, the wind and the children. Energy matched. Tied.
I get a sense of communication between us; the wind, and all it touches.
I have so many experiences of being totally aware when the wind is about, but the first time I really really noticed I was walking alongside the river one day in Brisbane, the heat was so hot as to be unfathomable, listening to the ker-slap of my sandals beating a path on the walkway, humming to myself, thinking how good it was to be alive. And then from behind me, gathering momentum, a roar of air and a great fog of dust came up through and past me; then stayed with me as I walked along. I couldn’t even hear the traffic anymore. I could see the leaves on the bushes that guard the pathway were in a frenzy. Holding out my right hand to touch those leaves I closed my eyes and smiled and laughed and let go of my tears; immensely happy, and full. And in that instant this billow of wind was blowing away the thick heat and taking me with it.
“I am here, you are here, we are still here!” it seemed to be saying.