As she passed through Los Alamos, where she worked as a high desert ecologist, she caught a glimpse of the old Manhattan Project barracks atop a hill and shuddered as images of killer nuclear destruction swam into her mind.  

Now the National Laboratory was developing peaceful solutions, making enormous progress toward saving energy and reducing the pollution which caused global warming. A researcher like herself should feel good about that, but somehow all she felt was apprehension.  

Speedily she pushed ahead until all the towns were far behind her.

Dreadful

Turning her attention inward, she realized that she was troubled by a foreboding, something dreadful churning within herself, wanting to surface. What was it? Something she had dreamed about. Something she held locked inside her. She hadn't felt this unsettled since her parents disappeared ten years ago in a landslide of gravel and stone.

In the Anasazi Ruins.

Nightmare

Now she remembered. Last night she had dreamed of the four elements.  Earth, air, fire and water. From mythology.  Her mother's field. In her dream, the four elements were chaotic, unbalanced, distressed. 

My soul is lost. I am searching for it. I must find it.

I travel through land, but the earth is trembling, shaking, falling apart, taking me with it.  
I travel through water, but an enormous tidal wave sweeps over me, carrying me along.  
I travel through air, but a fierce storm lifts me up and carries me into steep mountains.  
I travel through fire, and I land in a fiery volcano with hot lava spilling out.  

I wake with a scream stuck in my throat.

Four Elements

In her premonition, earthquake, flood, fire and storm were approaching with unbridled fury, arriving faster than anyone had predicted, and swallowing up all human life.

I must do something about it, she thought, but what?

Meredith knew her inner forebodings would be insignificant to other scientists, but she was the daughter of Jean Jacobs and Andrew Markey, scientists who also honored the validity of intuition.

She craved solitude to consider what her feelings might signify.   

Rest Area

Troubled by these thoughts, she pulled over at an overlook high above a green valley. She climbed out of her car, holding her most treasured possession, the precious medicine bundle, which was given to her ten years ago by a strange unknown woman in the Anasazi ruins. She had kept it with her ever since.

The weather seems benign, but it can flare up suddenly and engulf us.  The climate is a growing danger due to the greenhouse effect and global warming. Am I the only one who worries about environmental collapse?  Even my colleagues, who know so much about it, don't seem worried enough.  

What can I do to help?  

Peace Pipe

She sat on a large stone facing the overlook, the bundle of white deerskin in her lap.  Lovingly she unwrapped it and drew forth a Native American peace pipe crafted from bone, fur and feathers.  

She opened a small beaded pouch and dug around in it without apparently finding anything. By turning the pouch inside out, she managed to shake a few last shreds of sacred herb into her palm. She stuffed the shreds into the pipe and held it carefully by the bowl, aligned with the four directions.