Article voiceover
There is something about this West Coast breeze that centers me. There is something about its movement that brings me home. Every step I take outside-I inhale. I trust the air of the Pacific will meet me here.
Breeze that envelops my skin, making me feel new, like a newborn baby, with lungs- holding air for the first time, a breathe of beginning.
I take walks outside to center myself. My breathing centers itself, finding some normalcy in the storms of my traumas, of life's unexpectedness, of the weight of a perfect immigrant daughter.
When I find myself in these storms, I freeze. I’m left stagnant and paralyzed, in fear and anxiety, by events and overwhelming duties that don't let me catch my breathe.
Yet there is something about this West Coast breeze, that gives me solace in the chaos, something about its movement. Like the time Ruach hovered over all that was void. Like the time Genesis meant something in the Beginning.
My pain is a void. Sometimes I don't know how I believe, when I have no words, when trauma and life are ongoing.
So I step outside.
I lean into this West Coast Ruach. It brings movement. It brings home. It brings safety, like that of being held in a Mother's arms. I find my way home.
Outside I hear a feminine voice- familiar to the land of Tongva. Her voice speaks a prayer, "Corazoncito quedate quieto" (little heart be still). "Ruach se mueve sobre ti" (Ruach moves over you). West Coast Ruach moves over me.
Disclaimer
The word “trauma” is not used nor interpreted lightly in this poem. Trauma is a real, emotionally distressing response that occurs in our bodies from significant and scarring events. This poem is not used as a means to treat trauma, it only speaks on the author’s personal healing journey. Please seek help from a professionally trained mental health clinician if you think you are experiencing trauma untreated.
Ruach is the Hebrew word for wind, breathe, mind, and spirit (Genesis 1:2).