I always knew I was different than my family. I could never be happy simply following the bible and one god. I couldn't stay focused on it, the wall was talking to me, when I touched the tree it held my hand, when I felt the wind in my face it said 'hello, beautiful person', when I walked into the barn it hugged me.
But these 'objects' weren't supposed to have spirits. They were inanimate objects. They couldn't talk to you, or touch you back. But they could, it happened every day. I would walk through the trees and feel them watching me. They protected me, they loved the interaction, one wild spirit talking to another.
I would climb the popular tree by the quonset, put my ear on it's trunk and listen to it talk in the wind.
It was my safe place when hell was happening in the house.
People look at my funny when I describe my love of winter, wild storms, wind, and rain. I feel the spirits of the weather and it's a wild and dangerous love.
They dare me to stand in their way.
They dare me to embrace them and feel their strength.
The wind calls my name, the rain asks me to come play.
There is a reason that rainy days are my favourites.
Sunny days are meant for doing things, rushing around and being busy.
Rainy, windy and stormy days are meant for relaxing and watching the power, listening to the voices and appreciating that these spirits let us live with them on this little globe.
Everything has a spirit, the animals have souls, and the gods have let us share in some of the beauty they have created.