Santa Ana Winds

Here they come— the Santa Ana winds. I have always loved them. But I am a native. And I don’t mind powerful women.

Santa Ana winds are without shame. They carry electricity you can literally feel shocking your fingers as we forget we too are conductors of Nature. We forget we are nothing but matter, no minds over it. Stumbling, bumbling, falling into deep wells of our own beliefs that we are solid things that have autonomy. Hysterical winds, the Santa Anas, scream and moan in laughter at us. Keep us on guard. Play with our fears. For once our ears have to connect to Nature. Muted by constant mediocrity of temperature and sublime barometric pressure, we never use our ears to hear Nature, to know Her. To be awed by her courage to do whatever She deems noble.

There is a force, a clear established Power OVER in these dry gales whaling through wind chimes, bending palm trees that were never meant to grow here. Transplanted from other worlds (like so many of Southern California residents who live in nice neighborhoods), their heads bob and weave down so many Southern California streets while the Santa Ana winds shear their exteriors and scatter their dates like shots ringing out from automatic weapons. When will we learn that Nature has no mind for man-made weapons?

I say bring it. Bring the Santa Ana winds to blow down our perfectly placed Southern California exteriors and mock our ignorance at thinking we had any control over anything at all. Santa Anas scream at us to pay attention to the essence of sensation and perception in reality—wind.

Howl. Dip. Descend. Destroy. Shamelessly.

I believe these winds were named for Saint Anne, the mother of all mothers, the Virgin Mary’s mother. Saint Anne was hanged for hiding priests in her home, for practicing mass in her home—shamelessly.

Howl. Dip. Descend. Destroy. Shamelessly.

Drive this day beyond the comfort of tempers cooled in malls, and grocery stores, and cars. Remind us of the pay to play in the kingdom of God. Mother the elements as true mothers do—fiercely flinging aside that which is insignificant, and laying our heads on the line in the name of our Love.


Photo credit:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s