Last night I had a bout of sleeplessness in the wee hours. When I was first awakened I saw this aerial image of forested Pennsylvanian hills and valleys, with mist rising up from the valleys. Then I saw an aerial image of the plains of Colorado, flat and dry.
With the Pennsylvania image I had the impression of respiration. I sensed the living trees transpiring and the interaction of shade, sun, moist humus, cool valleys, mists and air currents. It was a very active, alive place. Colorado by contrast didn’t have a lot going on. There wasn’t much moisture, so not hardly any transpiration going on. Not much vegetation. Air currents seemed higher--like something separate, not really born of the confluence of earth and sky the way it was in the Pennsylvania image. It was as if the air rode in from other places and was just passing through, not being birthed by the local conditions.
Why does this feel important? What can I learn from this?
I need to get ahold of Ellsworth Huntington’s books. I feel like there might be something there that would be of use to me. I will have to do a search online.
I’m thinking again about the man calling up the weather. Standing in that dry scrubland, making the clouds build and roil--wasn’t he somehow, through his own body, creating a link between earth and sky that hadn’t existed before? Without him, the air currents would ride over, remaining separate from the dry earth. But he created the confluence that could bring rain.