I am living deep in the element of air this month, making my way through this quiet time in the turning of the wheel, guided equally by intention and intuition. After weeks of focus on divination, dreaming, meditation, imagination, communication, and spirit, nearly every closed door contained within my being has been peeked through or opened. Some unknown being even pulled open the old oak library card catalogs that serve as my mental filing system. It then randomly grabbed index cards from them and dropped them like breadcrumbs to lead me down a hundred different paths.
One of those breadcrumb paths led me to my journal from the first time I did an immersive study of the elements, back in 2009. I had been focusing on the element of air for three days when I journeyed east to the city of Salem, Massachusetts. I had written that for me to travel to Salem, a place where Witches have made a significant reclamation of identity, while I was contemplating the power of thought and all its accompaniments, was an affirmation of a personal guiding concept. Nobody else has the ability or authority to define who I am.
After a whirlwind couple of days of sightseeing with my traveling companions, I decided to spend my last afternoon in Salem in quiet contemplation of my experiences with air. While my friends went downtown to do some shopping, I walked to Salem Common, an eight-acre public park that has been public land in Salem since the city’s early days.
I strolled around the perimeter of the park, listening to the breeze tell stories. About halfway around the park, I heard somewhat different sounds coming from the leaves of an oak tree, so I moved in to listen more closely and settled myself on the ground beneath the generously spreading branches of the tree. The breeze would pick up every few minutes, and after a while I realized that rather than telling a story, its movement through the oak leaves carried the murmuring of voices from another place behind a very different kind of closed door. The sound was pleasant and even comforting.
Glass wind chimes against a pink and blue sky [B. Rhodes]
I sat for a long time in the shade, thinking about the many ways I had encountered and engaged with air throughout my stay in Salem. Eventually, I moved into a meditation where I allowed the here and now world to slip away. The people on the commons disappeared, but I was still there under that sturdy oak. The sun was shining in a blue sky dotted with perfect fluffy white clouds, and a gentle breeze was blowing.
When I began to hear the soft sound of wind chimes, I knew that I had moved beyond meditation into liminal space. I looked around, trying to find the chimes, and saw a woman walking towards me from the east. Tall and graceful, she carried a book in the bend of her arm. She wore a long, flowing gown of pale green, pale yellow, and white. The chiming grew louder as she drew near, but the sound remained pleasing.
As she passed by, I asked, “Do you hear that sound?”
She laughed in a way that echoed the chimes and answered, “The question is: do you?” Then she smiled at me and went on her way.
I leaned back against the tree and closed my eyes to focus on her question. All the while, the chimes were fading into the distance. I was certain her voice was one of those I heard in the distant room. She laughed one more time and I thought to myself, “Yes. I do hear that sound. I really do.”
That thought completed the turning of a key, and I felt and heard the click of a tumbler moving inside a lock to open it. Just like that, a necessary part of my spiritual existence fell into place.
I had just encountered the element of air presenting itself to me in human form. In that liminal space made boundless by ideas, knowledge, new beginnings, and deep understanding, my mind did not hesitate to accept what I had seen or heard.
I opened my eyes again and was back in that here and now. I moved to put my hands on the earth for a more intense grounding and found that a perfectly straight small oak branch had fallen to the ground while I was traveling — another gift from the air. I lingered in the shelter of that oak, transforming the branch into a wand by carving embellishments into its surface.
The wand is gone now. The memory that had been stored away in that old oak card catalog in my head was brought back to life by this round of knowledge seeking. Recalling it so clearly made me wish for another such experience with the element.
A couple of weeks ago, I sat on my front porch listening to the wind as it blew in from the west, running fast ahead of an oncoming storm. The elemental energy was wild and fretful; the storms had caused severe damage in other states. I wondered how the element would present itself if it took human form at this different time of year, in this different place, different weather, different circumstances. Would it dress for the occasion as it had done in Salem?
When the wind seemed to be at its highest point, fierce and howling, I went out into the garden to call to air. I stood beneath the tall white pine, spread my arms wide, and swayed to the rhythm of the tree bending and dancing with the wind. I could feel the elemental energy all around me, but it did not respond when I reached out. Later, when the rains came, the wind and the elemental became softer and gentler, whispering comforting words and sounds such as any good caregiver would to those weary and frightened by a storm.
Experiencing the power generated by the element and the elemental energy far outweighed my disappointment in not making the connection for which I had hoped. Whether or not it was intended to be one, the lesson was that no matter the relationship I think I have with the elements, they are unpredictable. Best not to forget. Best not to make assumptions.
Hoarfrost on a gazing ball [S. Barker]
This morning, Solstice Eve, I rose early and went outside to greet a different aspect of air. I shivered as I sat on the bench, every surface around me covered with pretty patterns of hoar frost. I was filled with gentle anticipation as I waited to greet the last short day of the year.
Dawn. New beginnings. Gradual change. Thought becoming action.
Watching the eastern sky turn pink as the sun rose was like watching an old lover approach from the distance. A smile slowly curved my lips and warmed my eyes as the sky lightened, and the first touch of the sun on my upturned face had the same effect as the first touch of hands long familiar with each other – all the things that don’t really matter just melted away.
As I watched the sun kiss the frost-covered ground, I heard the clear, harmonic notes of wind chimes sound. I answered the element’s old question again.
Yes, I heard it. I most definitely heard it.
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