Current Wavespell


Breath – Communicate – Spirit

White Wind is one of the 20 aspects of our environment celebrated in the Tzolkin (soul count) 260-day calendar.  The glyph image is a reminder of the god force behind nature: a divine face with puffed cheeks, the pressed out tongue of total exhalation. Scientifically, wind comes from meteorological shifts, hot and cool air pressure convergences; it’s invisible but for its influence in the trees, the ocean’s surface. But when we look with ancient eyes, through the Mayan stone carvings, we see White Wind as more than heat rising, cold descending; we stop noticing its effect – billowing sails, our own hair floating with the breeze – and look to its origin. Wind comes from the breath of god – little ‘g’ or big ‘G’. When we walk into a windy day, those deep rapid exhalations in nature show the work god is undertaking to infuse us with energy, oxygen, enlightenment. Other interference is blown away, rushed down the air stream. We become cloudless, clear.

The White Wind wavespell is a portrayal of masculine divinity. The Red Dragon that begins the Tzolkin cycle celebrates the primordial feminine pool where life, gestation and birth, begins. Like our first oxygenated breath outside the womb, White Wind is the counterpart to all that wet, insular darkness. We can associate it with Father Sky, counterbalancing Mother Earth, and feel into the vast emptiness that also fills our openings. Because have lived in a patriarchal society with a set of male gods and prophets – both politics and religion working to decimate divine feminine reverence – many of us are rebellious and reluctant to honor the majesty of a divine male presence. But without the surge of White Wind, we become adrift, immobile. Without the sensation of breath at our backs, we can feel disconnected and alone. So for 13 days we are in conscious engagement with our original father, receiving clarity, force, a flow of spiritual communication that leads us, presses us down our true path.

Truth is a large part of this wavespell. It’s a time to be honest, telling the truth and trusting it’s what you hear around you. What you find yourself saying will be your own piece of the godspell, the good word, so let it come out and through you. When in turn you meet people on the street, or lie deeply with them in the night, listen. We are designed in this moment to hear divine direction from each other. The wind is invisible but for its influences, but it’s also equal to solar, water in generating energy. We are the White Wind’s influence; our words, insights, proclamations are proof of its presence and power. It’s time to talk, trusting the rambling is its own scripture or poetry. It’s time to open your inner ear to the words, sounds of the world around you. We are instruments of god, it’s said, and so each of us tones, resounds, harmonizes on behalf of a divine orchestration. Imagine that the White Wind is stirring some of us to exhale, others to inhale, each in turn, receiving, releasing, the different speeds and surges of a spiritual symphony.

What if you don’t have anything to say? What if you have so much to say you are sure it will overwhelm? Again, the key to this time is to connect speech, words, self-expression to the soulfulness of the god world. If we are suddenly silent, that is an echo of god’s vast spaciousness and no need to pinpoint ideas with intonation. If we are spilling over with expressions of our feeling state, longings, triumphs – then it’s our part to proclaim another piece of the truth: that we are surging (thanks, god) with life force. Depersonalize the flow of language coming out of you or absent from your reach. Rather, make it mystical, your delicate part in the greater orchestration of wind instruments.

And because we are being overtaken in consciousness now by nature – in lingering cold temperatures, lethal seismic tremors and the child-honoring El Nino rains – look to the wind as we have always known it, the literal breeze pushing against the windowpanes and through the tree leaves. Fill up with the dominance of nature over humankind, and lean into that grandeur where our infamous free will is no match for the larger forces of meteorology and plate tectonics. Maybe El Nino is a storm season to remind us that we are children of god, subject to parental moods and turns in course. We may object to the instability, but are fated to follow its air currents and flood levels. We go which way the wind blows, and in this wavespell we are pushed farther along a path that must undeniably be towards reclaimed unity and collective goodwill. When nature summits as king – Zeus hurls the thunder bolts and lightning or is it Thor, or Cauac in the Maya cosmology – we are all equalized as citizens under a greater presence and divinity. And so we become united under god, one world of one love.

If the physiology of wind leads us back to one another – all blown against the same mountainside – trust that your words in the White Wind wavespell will, as well. Be it amends, apologies, invitations or incantations. In whispers or wild cries and sometimes, too, in silence that is only the inhalation and exhalation of breath.

The divine archetypes show the mother that holds us, nourishes us into earth particle and mass, and the father that infuses us with air so we are to an extent also invisible, ether. In this capacity to be unseen we are like the heavens, so much vast space between points of starlight. Allow the White Wintime to have the appropriate emptiness, the absence we sometimes blame our earthen fathers for invoking as they distance themselves to the peripheries. They are just gone tending to another dying sun.

Jose Arguelles chose three words to describe the White Wind. Its power is spirit. Spires, spirals, inspiration. The power of Spirit is ultimate and drives us upward, circles us back to ourselves. It moves and directs us. Everything has spirit, its invisible essence, whether a rock or starfish or the wave washing them into connection. Your sense of the deepest inner life of every element will lead to disinterest in this time in the non-spiritual nature of things. Matter (material things, and also mother energy) will be less important, will cancel itself by not mattering, and you will be left with halos, auras, essences attracting and guiding you.

White Wind’s action is to communicate.  We’ve noted that words will fall easily from your mouth, and from others straight through your open throat to your heart. To speak your truth, to open yourself to truth, is our present communion. Truth is as vague and vast word as love, and maybe they are in fact the same. To be honest is to be open, to be true is also faithful, full of faith. We have a serum in us these days to be channels of the directive, expansive, aerated instruction of masculine divinity. In society, women are described as the communicators, men the strong, silent ones, but we are digging deeper into archetypes now to uncover that men’s silent and strong communication is the exhalation that fuels feminine heart expression, rich in color and endless in flow. Each of us is taking in now, receiving silence, readying ourselves for the alchemy of emitting statements, sounds – sharing with others, communing – in our out breath.

The essence is breath, because it is the wind within us, a piece of our own meteorology, pushing in and out rapidly, slowly, shallow or deep. Letting our breath out, we can create gentle breezes or destructive gales, and neither is necessarily better or worse. The importance now is just to awaken to the impact within us when we inhale – how far down the corridors of our bloodstream and organs does that oxygen reach? – and exhale – whom do we warm, enliven, or toss like a tumbleweed, what do we clear like dense clouds, the threat of rain? Every wavespell comes to its knees before a crucial life force, and now it’s the primacy of breathing. Don’t force those gasping inhalations, distending your belly. That would be out of touch with the truth we are trying to invoke in this time. Just notice, linger with the alternating movement and stillness, and long for more.

Remembering Red Moon

Last Wavespell’s Learning

The feminine flow gentled all, as we were caught in a descending flow to the ocean. There’s no way to move uphill as water, except in the evaporation that leads to rain. Red Moon, though, is about water washing down a trillion hillsides on its way to the unified continuum called sea. When we reclaim the innermost feminine receptivity, we always move in the direction of ease, passing obstructions by feeling sensually along their rock hard stance and going around not over or through.

Red Moon was a time to observe the liquid nature of self, and how tidal we are, conjunct to the moon’s orbit and moods. We are informed by the lunar phases, stratified by the same ebb and flow of the ocean’s edges – so that sometimes we are spilling over with crashing waves that scrape others’ boundaries, and six hours later we have flipped to feeling nearly empty and raw with our own rocks and bones exposed like a desert landscape.

Did we rejoice in being so one-with-nature? The more we honor the astral and terrestrial dynamics at play in our own bodies, the easier it is to forgive ourselves for acting like a fiery sun, dark stormy sky and the flow of water filling the weather patterns between. Rather we revere ourselves as all natural.