Being Breath

stories from the wilderness of everyday life

Staying With The Breath

My journal page from last night.
The wind.

My breath.
It is all I can think of right now.
As I type this, friends, family, and strangers are beginning to feel the full effects of the storm on the east coast of the United States.  I've been in touch with those who are trying to get home, some who are home, and some who have been evacuated from their home.  I hold them all in my heart.
I came across something on Facebook that indicated a relationship in the Celtic language between the word "ghost" and the words, "seeing", "blowing" and "breathing".  As I reflected upon that, the wind picked up outside my own window.  (I'm in Indiana, far from the storm, but already receiving some of it's effects.  We've lost a fairly large tree branch.)  My breath started to deepen, to take within me the power of the invisible force making the trees dance.
I am lost for words, and sometimes, that is where I would like to remain.  I am in a much deeper knowing, a knowing where ghosts of my ancestors whisper to me, a knowing that is a collective knowing.  It is the only place where I can find peace today.
Today, I remain with the wind, with my breath.
May you find peace in these invisible yet powerful forces as well.
Namaste.