The wind blows fierce. Its so cold here, so crisp, the breathe hangs on the air like it is waiting for the next gust to take it to warmer climes.
Do you ever whisper prayers on the wind?
I miss the ocean like mad, miss the smell of salt and even the way the sea lions used to keep me awake all night. But we are all connected and somewhere in the sweeping fall gusts lie the molecules of the ocean, come thousands of miles because they missed me too.
One of the four elements, one that holds the breath of our ancestors, that connects us to the life forces around us, that wails and screams and hums and sings all of its own accord, wind has always annoyed me and pushed me. In the fall, I watch the way it makes the leaves on the ground dance and listen to the music that the last few crisp leaves hanging in the trees play just for me. In the spring it will bring with it the scent of fresh grass, damp earth and rain. In the winter it piles the snow drifts high against the house, blankets us with silence.
Wind magic, for me, is not about what the wind brings with it but what I can gift it with to take to the next town. And so I whisper prayers on the wind and add my voice to that of my ancestors and listen to the wind sing.