When the warm wind comes in the spring I open all the windows in the house, letting it scatter the months of winter air and dust.
The wind, no matter what time of year, is nature’s pruning, all the dead branches break from the trees, and the sick and weak trees themselves topple and snap.
I stand in the wind, my arms out like a scarecrow and imagine it whistling through my ribs, emptying me out.
When Holly wrote and told me that in eastern medicine 3am, The Witching Hour, The Hour of The Wolf, is called The Time of the Wind and that it comes to help clear the body, I connected with it right away.
Suddenly that awful hour became an opportunity, not something to dread. Like a bad dream, if I can see it as having a message for me, something my subconscious is trying to make me aware of, then I can deal with it.
So maybe waking at 3am is a gift. Maybe my sleep has dredged up something from the day or from my past that I need to let go of. Like the wind, blowing through my open windows, lifting the dust and stagnant energy, and blowing it away.