This morning, I sat with my tree council. It was windy, with powerful gusts asking for careful listening and quiet reverence. Hallowed silence for one hour. Grief, followed by awe followed by gratitude, then tears. I had a very serious conversation with the God of wind and trees.
Listening to the wind howl through the windows and watching the golden leaves rattling in circles on the ground, I delayed going outside. I'll wait until the weather calms down, I thought. Hours later, it showed no signs of resigning, so I obeyed my promise to meet the trees first thing in the morning. I was waiting for the right conditions—the ones I would have chosen—to go, engage, and be present. My conditions. My wishes. As I stepped into that corridor of wind, I found in its intensity the perfect atmosphere for being struck and brought back to a central point of love and awe. The mystery spoke to me in wind tongue—a gift I hadn’t expected and, in fact, almost avoided entirely. Grace plowed me over and I forgot everything I knew. Wind can do that, blow through, lift the rugs, and leave your house feeling different, cleansed somehow. Energy and air that is stale is pushed out.
I walked along the edge of a nearly black river earlier this week. It was the same affirming embrace reaching out through the mist. As so many of us feel the weight of an uncertain world pressing down, I am thankful for the company around me. For the trees, wind, and black water - companions through storms, witnesses of countless tides of change.Consistent and rhythmic.
Perhaps this intensity is perfect for this time. A purpose we may not yet understand - not one we choose or want, not one that inspires us to run out and face life with trust, but one with a subtle, hidden purpose. Although we may not like how things outside our window look and feel, that doesn't mean the conditions aren't ideal for bringing forth and unlocking some deeper part of ourselves. Some needed golden seed.
