Everywhere

Everywhere 

In his classic hit, good ole’ Sting sang, “Every breath you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you.” Now, everyone says that song is about a stalker. Me, on the other hand; I’d like to think it’s about me.

You see, I am air. That’s right, air. I am EVERYWHERE. You cannot see me, you cannot feel me most of the time (unless I get a bit frazzled, then I can really give you a chill!), and you cannot hold me. I surround you, I sustain you, I watch you 24/7. And you’ve got nothing on me.

The Ancient Greeks talk about the classical elements, those things that reflect the essential parts that create everything in existence: earth, wind, fire, and last but certainly not least, AIR. Little do they know, I am the one at the center of those elements, I am the solidifying one, the glue that holds everything together. I sustain all life, all existence. Without me, you foolish mammals, you would be empty, useless beings, all carnal, no mental. You would be vacant, lungs empty, collapsed, you in a choking haze, on your deathbed, forever gone from this world.

I am invisible, yet I see more than anyone else. I swish around the world, watching you creatures crawl about, allowing you to live so that you can wake to see another day. I am invisible and invincible, yet I, like all, have moments of weakness. When I am held back from people, I must watch their demise, and this hurts me. When Susan Smith pushed her car with her three children into that lake, I remember reaching out for them. I wanted so badly to jump into the water, to fill their lungs with life, to save them. But it was beyond me, a weakness I could not surpass. I saw them die from atop the water, sadness overwhelming me.

I am sentimental, but I can also be furious. I am no saint, after all. Hurricane Frances; my greatest shame, and my greatest mark. So many died because of my fury. Could I have controlled it? Maybe. But I was too wrapped up in my own rage to try.

Then there are the tornados. In them lies my true release. There, I dance around, a cylindrical ballerina, each turn of my pirouette creating mounds of destruction. Do I regret this? Perhaps I regret the people who die because of my demolition, or those foolish enough to chase me; but I wouldn’t give it up for the world. They allow me to float freely, a rush in a world of calm.

I have seen so many things in my existence; so much love and hate, observed quiet tears that were thought to be shed alone, seen the horrors and joys of life, and caused so much happiness and destruction. I am me, and I am here, and I will continue to thrive until our planet becomes washed away in a dark misery.

I am air, I am invisible, and I am everywhere. As I record these thoughts, I wrap myself around an autumn tree, helping its brown, crisp leaves, fall from its branches. As they descend through me, I see beauty born as the sun shines on them, revealing the life they once possessed.