Dark Air

I was feeling the call to do some sort of spiritual exercises tonight, but couldn't think of anything off hand, so I decided to flip through one of my go to books -- Witch Crafting by Phyllis Curott. It's not my favorite, but it has an abundance of good quality exercises for those times when I want to do something witchy, but I don't know what. Tonight, however, I ran across an absolutely (unintentionally) hilarious exercise. It's about connecting with air magic, and talks about smelling the flowers, and trees dancing in the breeze. I think it even mentions children laughing. Sweet stuff, really. What makes it hilarious is that today had a high of 20 degrees Fahrenheit and winds gusting at Gods-only-know miles per hour. Today is certainly a day for air to come into it's own, but it's not a smiles and daffodils kind of air. This is the dark side of air, which I feel is frequently forgotten. We are much more likely to acknowledge the dark side of fire (it burns!), water (it drowns!), or even earth (in this culture we're buried in it, after all). But air is always childlike innocence, sweetness, and light. But it's not true! Air can be just as dark, just as deadly. I've always connected to air as more of a desolate clifftop with eagles wheeling in the rarefied air than gentle meadow breezes anyway. But air kills! In winter, it's the wind that cuts through your warm coat like a knife.

I find myself wondering if I should go outside to consciously experience the wild fervor of today's wind, or if the core lesson is just to avoid it. Not every aspect of nature needs to be explored in depth. But then, I'm not suggesting a hike in the wilderness – I'm not going to freeze to death in my own yard. Maybe I should step outside for a minute or two to connect with the cold. Then I can come inside and connect with a nice cup of tea.

So I do that. I go outside. It's a beautiful winter night with everything crisp around the edges and a nearly full moon in the clear sky. It's also bug fucking A cold out. I'm able to absorb a sense of peacefulness, but that's it. Since we haven't closed up the front porch yet, I may go out there later (bundled up, of course!) to look at the moon some more. That ought to provide at least a barrier between me and the howling wind. I'm not sure exactly what I am looking for -- that same barrier that keeps me from freezing will also keep me from fully experiencing the elements. Maybe I just want a little bit more of that peacefulness.