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Wind Storm

Wind Storm

Insurance companies say they won’t cover “acts of God”. We’re all familiar with such encounters, but can one truly argue it’s the work of the Great Spirit? I believe that encounters with Nature are from the spirit of Mother Nature herself. Nature speaks constantly. Sometimes, She speaks so quietly that her voice gets lost. While

Insurance companies say they won’t cover “acts of God”. We’re all familiar with such encounters, but can one truly argue it’s the work of the Great Spirit? I believe that encounters with Nature are from the spirit of Mother Nature herself.

Nature speaks constantly. Sometimes, She speaks so quietly that her voice gets lost. While caught up in material problems and worries, messages from our original Mother literally float over our heads unnoticed; like a bird or butterfly.

Today’s message from ‘Mom’ wasn’t so subtle.

It was an insanely gusty day. A wind, unlike any I’d felt before, pressing like a rolling river against my entirety, was more alive than any wind I’d ever met. Though humbled, the interaction left me feeling powerful; like a bird. I was alive, limitless, connected and free! Yet this playful powerhouse screamed timidly beneath its roar. A message for me, everyone and anything listening.

Later, they said the winds were comparable to those in hurricanes. A shy morning whisper that instantly evolved into a whirling-chameleon lecture. A wind of sudden change: a rebel of predictability: a fearless, unstoppable force. A drift of energy that embraces all things in lightening speed. A wind that, you swear, lifts you airborne for a split second when you step towards it — that gives you wings to ride it if you just surrender. MN is but powerless to the ‘Law of Momism’: repeatedly tolerating ignorance. Moms let it slide and slide … until it’s finally time for words. Nagging infinitely, without doubt she magically makes successful contact, impervious to caller ID, or straight-up hiding. Always with our best interests in mind, and always knowing when we need her most. As well as everything else like a creepy telepathic wizard (seriously, how do they know EVERYTHING?).

While I played with the wind, my literal mother visited the family farm. The farm is the strongest connection my family has had to the land, and our ancestors, for generations — guardian angel central. There, the tempered gusts tumbled through the forest surrounding the homes, shaking even the sturdiest trees. My mother parked her car to visit her sister.

Moments after entering the house, like a crusty blade of scorched grass under a giant farm boot, the wind snapped a massive, healthy pine, 20 feet away, on top of my Mother’s car. A total weird-or-what incident … with luckily no injury or serious damage. The only victim was the bumper of a car (which wouldn’t you guess, was covered under warranty). Couldn’t have been a better disaster, considering.

Yet persistently … a humbleness crawled deep through the tissues of my spirit, sending electricity from my braids to my stinky Mohawk feet.

What was MN’s message? A message of material vs. Mother? All mothers — the mothers in my life; Mother Earth; Grandmother Moon? Perhaps, that we must better nurture these Mothers, to learn from them and understand their forces of wisdom and love.

Was it a reminder of womanly force and our duties to the feminine spirit?

Maybe, a simple sign that change is coming. Or that a change is in desperate need. All I know for sure, is there’s no way it meant nothing. When I feel the purity of Earth’s energy ooze through my feet up my body, I know I’m of that same magic, creation and cryptic language. When the wind embraces me, it’s more than a breeze; it’s an interaction.

Energies interact. When I radiate negativity MN feels it. If I’m unbalanced, she feels that too, and never fails to act. She’s a living being and mother; of course she’d respond. I hear you, MN. Whether I needed to reflect on the whole lesson or a specific footnote, I know now what I need to do.

P.S. Nya:weh for protecting my Mother (and her precious Wrangler).

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