I recently read a book that outlined some of the ways in which ancient and indigenous cultures describe the spirit. The roots of words like psyche and spirit have common ancestors with the roots of wind and breath and air. This idea seems so evident and yet, so sublime. The invisible force that sustains all life - air. The spirit that unifies us and moves through us - breath. That which is everywhere, and yet can't be held or seen. When this sacred force chooses to reveal itself to us, the holy nature of its presence is felt when we are open to sense it. A breeze or wind can bring to us the scents of distant hills full of flowers, cause our hairs to stand on end, bring tears to our eyes, and even cause us to fall to our knees. One of my favorite manifestations of the divine is fluid dynamics (pardon the scientific terminology). An ordered dance of a liquid, always obeying the laws of physics, and yet, so complex that a measurement or prediction is impossible in all but the most basic of scenarios.
This is a very sweet time of year in Japan as the Hanami celebrations are in full swing. The tradition originated with members of the imperial court viewing and walking under the cherry blossoms at their peak. Of coarse, there's sake and feasting and poetry and general merriment, but the reason the emperor enjoyed the flowers is because they are a metaphor for life: luminous and beautiful yet fleeting and ephemeral.
Today I witnessed the wind taking some of these beautiful flowers up into the arms of eternity in the most amazing vortex of pink. When I walk among the tiny flung fragments of spring, I see the forming of another summer take the life of another spring and make it's passing into something wonderful. The blossom's brief time has ended and the transformation is attended by a sacred force that I can not only see, but feel and smell too. I feel the spirit kiss my skin, and as I inhale the sweet delicate perfume, all the little hairs on my neck stand to get a better look at God.
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