One of my favorite things about autumn (and spring for that matter) is being able to have the windows open. I’m sitting here with a lovely fall breeze freshening the house and dusting off the air-conditioned funk that’s built up over the summer. Lest you think my house smells, it’s not a physical stink. It’s a spiritual stagnation brought about by enforced isolation from nature.

Here in Missouri, air conditioning is a necessity well into September. If it’s not oppressively hot, the allergens are so bad that filtration is a must. We don’t have to turn on the heat until November, typically, but then it stays on until late March or so and brings about the same dampening of spiritual energy.

I have not discussed paganism much in this blog, but it is a large part of my life. I don’t belong to a coven. I don’t call myself the High Priestess of the Concocted Mysteries, Third Degree. I don’t cast spells. I don’t even worship a specific deity. My faith is in nature, the sun, the stars, the moon, and in the great One that is above all the universe. Call it what you will, God, Allah, Buddha, Ceridwen, to me all gods are one and the One is all gods.

So, when I get too cut off from nature, my spirit wilts. No…I’m not a camper or an outdoorswoman. In fact, I’m far from that. My idea of camping is the Motel 6 and a hike is a walk around the block. But I still need to feel the breezes and hear them rustle through the trees. I need to taste the air before a storm and smell the freshness when it’s passed. I need to feel connected in my own small way. When I do, my spirit expands beyond the boundaries of my body and twines with nature in an ecstasy that’s impossible to articulate.

My religion…the church of open windows…