Fuzzy Cloak Weather

It feels silly to speak or write about the weather, but here’s the thing. At great time and trouble I uprooted myself, my business and my family to move from the Northeast to Florida for exactly two reasons – the sun and the ocean. I wanted to be in a place called “The Sunshine State.” For me it is all about the weather. Call me shallow. I do poorly at seasonal adaptation.

Over the past few weeks it has been unseasonably cold here in Florida. I realize this is no state of emergency when compared with the health and financial risks associated with the polar vortex in other parts of the country.

There are some Floridians who refer to temps in the forties and fifties as “glorious” and “lovely.” I am not one of them.

But I did hear a term that made me feel better about having to bundle up for the bonfire drum circle and to do tarot readings at the ironically-on-the-coldest-day-of-the-year Snowbird Appreciation Festival at a neighboring Tampa Bay community.

The term is “Fuzzy Cloak Weather.”

Many like-minded northerners have sought shelter from the cold, sleet, ice and snow here in Florida. With us we brought only the very best of our cold weather clothes – the ones we wore at festivals, circles and fairs. Having to mothball those gorgeous and expensive capes, cloaks, robes, boots, hoods, and wraps made of wool, satin and velvet was perhaps the only downside of moving to Florida.

This past Friday I was going to skip the drum circle. It was just too cold to sit outside, drum and dance. Then I remembered it. It’s fuzzy cloak weather! I’d been to drum circles in colder weather up north, and had a great time.

Sure enough, around the blazing fire I found my friends in beautiful hand-knit sweaters, flowing velvet scarves and colorful hats. It was so warm close to the fire I could take off my faux fur to dance.

Anyone who says we don’t have seasons in Florida has never spent a year here. After six years I am beginning to feel attuned to the Wheel of the Year in Florida. We don’t have a time of scarcity and a time of plenty. There is no urgency to celebrate our survival. Food grows all year, but changes with the seasons. Basic parts of the environment, such as light and water, change through the seasons.

Up until this year I have dreaded having to wear winter gear. Some winters are colder than others, but never for more than a few days at a time, and rarely colder than forty degrees. Some years the winter gear – even the fuzzy cloak itself – never comes out at all.

This year I am in the Tampa Bay area. Here it is often ten degrees color than where I was in South Florida. Although I love it here, the drop in temperature is not an advantage.

At the same time, I am relatively at peace with frigid Florida for the first time. Sometimes the cooler temps make a bonfire more fun! Perhaps it’s a blessing to wear our fabulous winter gear and remember that we once knew how to have good times in cold weather.

We can do that in Florida, too.

Earthing

I have just recently heard about "Earthing." I don't know whether to be happy or sad.

"Earthing" is a new healing technique that involves…wait for it… lying directly on the ground or walking barefoot in order to connect to the healing energies of the Earth.

Apparently naturopathic science is discovering what Pagans and hippies have known for years. The Earth's energy heals us. Having that validation should make me happy, I suppose. Except that I don't need validation for an obvious truth.

What I feel is disgust that people can take a normal human behavior, brand it and market it. I feel the same disgust that we as a culture have grown so far away from our planet that this even needs to be a thing.

Of course New Age marketing geniuses have found a way to monetize Earthing. You can now buy an "Earthing Bed" that has a special cord through which energy supposedly transfers from the Earth to your bed.

Cue even more disgust here. Our planet is not chic yoga pants, shoe-magnets, a high-tech water purifier or a juicer. "Earthing" cannot become just another New Age fad.

I live in a naturist community. I am "barefoot all over" most of the time. I connect with the Earth every day. I go to the beach and lie naked in the sand. Beyond that, I'm a Pagan. It is my religion to connect with the Earth. I am glad, really glad, that people are waking up to the power of the Earth and the travesty of our modern-day disconnection from the Earth. I'm sad that someone had to tell them (or sell them) what they should have innately known.

In 2005, Richard Louv wrote a book, Last Child in the Woods, which hypothesized a modern malady "Nature Deficit Disorder."

Louv suggested that since modern parents are afraid to expose their kids to nature our nation is beginning to suffer a complex collective anxiety disorder.

I hate to think that my kids were the last generation to run through the woods, eat sun-warmed berries off a bush, sleep in a tent and skinny-dip in a lake.

In the 1960s there was a "back to the Earth" movement. As a child those concepts immediately appealed to me. In fact, that movement was probably responsible for forming me into the skyclad hippie witch that I am.

And now it turns out that those who took a different route are suffering, and their prescription is to connect their bodies to the Earth.

I am not looking forward to hearing all the New-Agey fad-followers talking about how they are going to go Earthing after yoga on Tuesday. But the fact is I hope they actually do. They need it, and so does the planet.

I'll do my own bit of marketing here. If you are looking for a great place to go Earthing, try your local naturist park or nude beach. And maybe don't call it Earthing. Maybe just call it going to the beach.