All are of the essence, but today I think about air. Waves of air. As we breathe deeply of air to relax and center, I think about air as it fills my belly, my chest, my throat, my mouth and the flow of molecules past my lungs and into my blood to become a part of me.
How precious is the air we breathe. The breath of life on our planet -- we take it so for granted. What's a few more diesel fumes? What's a little more black carbon soot compared to getting our packages delivered?
Air - waves - wind - I sit in the bowl of grass at the top of Buckeye Canyon and watch the waves of air ruffle the green grass. I watch the hawks soar on the warm eddies of air that blow across the ridges. The waves and waves of ruffled grass -- now green, soon to be golden, then silvery colored, still with waves of wind ruffling, ruffling.
Little butterflies and solitary bees flit and are tossed by the air currents. Flowerheads tremble with joy in the breeze.
Way at the bottom of the canyon, I can see the building that the freight forwarder will move into. I can see how the toxic plume will wend its way up into the air.
I do not speak for me. The air, the breath, that passes my lips to protest this travesty is for the waves of grasses, the flits of flies, the soaring of hawks and the breath of life for our future.