In my childhood, when I was getting over measles or bad colds, as soon as the fever was gone, my mother would bundle me up and deposit me in a comfortable chair set in broad sunshine for the cure, the medicine of light and fresh air. I would get bored or start coughing but I knew I was supposed to soak up some mystical healing and magical rays; to absorb the gifts that nature offers to the human body. We knew nothing of serotonin or the need of the body's deep chemistry for large doses of oxygen. This method derived from pure and simple human instinct and experience.
Today, before being consciously aware of this memory, I decided to ensconce myself in a comfortable lawn chair, dug one out of winter storage and settled myself in broad sunlight outdoors. In the vastness of light and sir I hoped to benefit perhaps from a repeat of yesterday's temps in the high seventies. As I settled in, I touched the childhood memory and realized that I had moved toward the elemental, the basic; exposure to the felt healing presence of God in light and air amidst the swirling wind blown leaves, brown and desiccated leftovers of the winter ordeal. The appearance of these dancing oak leaves and their vulnerability to weather's vagaries spoke to me of my own interior dryness; a lack of warmth and moisture that has rendered me without sufficient substance to resist the forces that push me, willy-nilly, from one whirling vortex of disappointment or despair to another.
As with the diseases of my childhood, I have lost my immunity, my resistance. So I come to the earth, to light and air; to the Father, the Son and the Spirit to soak up their energy, to restore my substance, the gravitas on which I depend to center me in right perception, conscious awareness and loving response.