Naturally Mindful

Elemental Meditation-Air

Within Paganism, the Air Element is linked with aspects of creativity, self-expression and mental engagement. For today’s #NaturallyMindful reflection, I will be exploring the connection between the physical properties of air and the spiritual implications of our relationship with it in this second installment of my series on the elements (see Earth). I’ll also be examining some of the psychological effects our relationship with air can have on us.

Lines and Swirls

The movement of air is intimately related to the fire element of the sun; wind is forged when air is heated by the sun’s rays and expands. We often describe human growth and development in the language of both light and air. Beginnings are “enlighted.” Change is “in the wind.” Wind not only originates with the fire element, it can in turn fan the flames of infernos. Contemplate for a moment the ways in which empowerment and inspiration are inter-played in your own life with aspects of movement and evolution. What can we learn from the dance of wind and fire?

Wind moves in three dimensions at once by flowing in straight lines or swirling in spinning vortexes. How often we as humans desire linearity—for things to progress forward—with no strange angles or curves! There is a beauty, though, I think in the undulations of a field of wheat or the rocking of branches to and fro in a storm. The trajectory of our lives is likewise uneven and flitting; accepting the unpredictability and possibility of what is to come can be exhilarating in the way it frees us from expectation.

Air is ever-present yet the quality of its movement is inherently transient. We feel its force and then it’s gone. Our mental processes are likewise temporary. Mindfulness meditation practices sometimes make use of imagery related to air to help individuals with anxiety loosen their grip on the need to obsess over fear-provoking thoughts. For instance, the person may be encouraged to imagine the thought as a balloon, which can be released into the air and watched as it floats away.

In Breath and Out Breath

The air we inhale is not made primarily of oxygen. Our lungs are responsible for selectively filtering the oxygen out of the mixture of gasses, moving it to our blood. Humans require a constant supply of oxygen in order to produce energy to “run” the cells of our body. Without it, our brain quickly dies. It amazes me to think that every human in existence relies on an “invisible” gaseous substance every moment of their life. Each in-breath feels like a tiny miracle within this framework.

We exhale air in which the oxygen content has been transferred to carbon dioxide. Trees and other plant life absorb this carbon dioxide and transform it back to oxygen. This symbiotic relationship extends to other aspects of our breath, as trees also block harmful particles in air.

Breathing exercises that focus on regulating the pace of our inhalations and exhalations can reduce stress. Individuals who suffer from the effects of traumatic events may find attuning to breath to be a grounding experience. The next time you engage in this mindfulness practice, extend your awareness to the sources of the in-breath and the gifting of the out-breath to nearby vegetation.

A Voice to the Void

We harness the power of air each time we speak. Consider that each time you say something aloud, your body, through an intricate balancing act, is constricting and releasing air just so in order to pronounce each syllabus. It takes us years as children to master this choreography; there are plenty of individuals for whom, due to physical conditions, a precisely-timed pirouette of sounds proves elusive even in adulthood.

The space between objects within our galaxy is filled with the Interstellar Medium, a near-vacuum compromised only of very tiny particles made of substances like “crystals” as well as thin gases such as hydrogen. Our voices do not directly reach this void as far as I understand physics, but it is fascinating to me to consider how much “hot air” many of us generate on a regular basis in speaking without genuine need or purpose. Ritual chanting in Pagan practice becomes elevated to a sacred act for me when I consider collective voices calling into the night.

Air is ethereal, there but unseen. We need it and we shudder to think what it means for our existence when breath ceases. It give life to our innermost thoughts as we render them to spoken word. What has the air element meant for you in your life? In what ways do you connect its physical characteristics to your psychological and spiritual life? How might you alter your relationship with it, for instance through awareness of your breath?

Naturally Mindful

Elemental Meditation: Earth

Cross-posted at my SageWoman blog.

This is the first installment in a series of blogs about the four elements. My spiritual walk is that of an Earth-based practitioner of Goddess Spirituality, so the element of earth was a natural beginning point. I will be describing physical features of earth and connecting them to our human and spiritual experience for today’s #NaturallyMindful Monday.

Dirt

You’re walking on the dead each time you trod across the ground. Topsoil is comprised of decayed plant material and animals such as insects, as well as inert materials such as clay. I conceptualize it as an open-air sacrifice. All that has gone before us is reused and recycled for our benefit, often without our appreciation or awareness.

We admonish children to wash dirt from their hands, and brush it off of ourselves each time we enter our houses after activities like gardening. Certainly most of us would be embarrassed if a visitor discovered some of it inside our houses, unless it was in a careful container growing plants. Words like dirty and soiled are not typically used as a compliment. We are decaying as soon as we come into existence, but we wish ourselves separate from the process. I struggle with a fear of germs, so I’m not about to take a dirt bath anytime soon, but I now see the inherent worth of something I previously avoided.

Layers

It’s easy to focus on the soil on which we tread as the beginning and end of the ground, but the Earth made of varied geological features. We spend our lives atop liquid rock and an iron core. In some places, water flows miles below, unseen. Every step each of us takes is ultimately above rock that is nearly the temperature of the sun. What would it feel like to internalize the power available to us underneath our beings? The white-hot blazing, flowing, liquid, diamond-hard, soil-soft, aerated impenetrable of the earth cannot be summarized in one word or image; it is complexity quantified. All we have to do is get to ground to literally stand on it and claim it as our birth place.

The earth’s layers help us measure the passage of time and enable us to notice key moments. Scientists theorize about when a particular event occurred based on the physical features of the soil and the chemical composition of the rock layers. As humans, we don’t physically carry our inner self enshelled within deposits of aged growth, but we do hold our past within us. For those of us who are trauma survivors, the memories of bygone fates have altered our internal landscape and left their mark on our psyche. Despite our violent pleadings, I do not think we are made wholly anew by spiritual regenerations or rebirths. Rather, I think we are sifted and stirred spiritually, like sand, until we integrate each part of our existence and self. When the process finishes, no one part can be separated from the rest.

Buried deep in the folds of the Earth, we can find hidden treasures and a wealth of natural resources. The most barren and unsuspecting vista can hold vast caches of precious metals and fossil fuels. How many of us conceal our inner gems, for fear of their flaws or imperfections? We may spend so much time and effort on perfecting our outer being, convinced that the way we look determines our inner worth, when in fact our value is tied only minimally to our constantly dimming physical attractiveness.

Roots

The earth is more than rock and soil. Plants and earth-dwelling creatures share with it a symbiotic relationship. Elements are exchanged between beast and ground, between plant and dirt. Remove one without replacement and the other suffers. Witnessing this sense of place leaves me curious as to where we are rooted, and as to what “grounds” us. So much of what sustains us, even the most basic ingredients such as our food and water, often arrives at our doorstep from vast distances. What are we made of if not our land? How are we altered by our potential disconnection from the place in which we find ourselves?

An animal who makes its home underground and a plant that survives based in part through the tendrils digging deep below will not last long if it is uprooted. At the same time, transplanting and relocation are possible. Consider the care many of us give flowers and shrubs we plant around our houses, welcoming them to their new home and ensuring for their well-being. A new pet is afforded all sorts of accommodations to make it feel comfortable. I moved 12 times or so as a young adult; it was rare to experience hospitality or even recognition in each new location. How do we welcome the strangers among us? Why are we as adults expected to be able to jump right in to an unfamiliar and novel environment? What can each of us do if we move, either physically or psychically, to a new place, in order to find the spot with the right mix of elements and surroundings to help us flourish?

The Earth is very much alive. The ground is filled with secrets. It holds the past in its decay. The dynamic ground swells and moves. It undulates with deep stirrings. Most importantly, the ground is sacred. Who we are, what we are and where we are is entrenched within it for this emanation of our life. What lessons have you cultivated as you’ve surmised the earth element? How best can we return to it the real and the mental support it gives to each of us?