As I peer out yonder window pane, I can see the Chocolate Mountains of Santa Rosa and the lovely mountains of San Jacinto.

Through the rain, nestled within each curve and angle are clouds that appear to be waves crashing about, coating the surface and looking ethereal. I enjoy the rain, the wind, and all the elements that come from Mother.  It’s like a service call in that she replenishes herself.   I so connect with that constant awareness of self, although I bring it forth in similar, albeit less powerful ways. I can, let’s say, connect the dots….

I cry.  My personal rain. Regardless of emotion, it comes in many forms of flight.  Joy, sorrow and visual.  I see, I hear, I feel.  My whole existence generates these patterns of innocence.  It’s truly my fuel.  

My breath is my wind… it occasionally becomes labored and heavy when met with challenge or fear.  I have been known to blow hot air.  These days I generate the wind like my surroundings, the useful windmills of the Cabazon.  I make it my mission to breathe words of encouragement, love and allowing the linger to soothe like a fresh breeze, instead of a harsh Santa Ana wind.

Shadow to light.  Separate and intertwined.  My spiritual birth has come forth through her divine source of unity. Connection, correction and current. 

Often the journey of journaling the thoughts in my head lead me to old familiar places~  thoughts that frighten me, for I wonder if the deeper I delve, will I slowly sink?  

Yet I discover once there I really can lay back and float.  Skimming or swimming the surface is never the answer for me.  So I must dive and reach~ for in truth, it’s just water I tread, knowing that within me is a fire that burns.