Clean Air for All
With the increase in air pollution, there are things you need to know to keep your air supply clean and refreshed.
July/August 1999
By Anne McGregor Parsons
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“The air at 500 km is so thin that a molecule will travel an average of 30 km before it collides with another molecule.” —Ray Roble, Senior Scientist High Altitude Observatory National Center for Atmospheric Research
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“. . . this most excellent canopy, the air . . .”
—Shakespeare, Hamlet, II ii 317
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Hail to the air apparent. Though ubiquitous, essential, this planet-protecting blend of gases is notable for being defined by what it is not—a litany of negatives: tasteless, odorless, colorless. A pervasive nonentity. An oxymoron, is our air.
It wafts its way through our language as through our lives. We put on airs, cultivate an air of mystery, disappear into thin air. A braggart is full of hot air. Deliriously happy, we’re walking on air. We air grievances—and opinions.
We enter this world with an inhale that, some doctors theorize, burns all the way down, harsh as a shot of cheap whiskey. Our relationship to this invisible presence brackets our days on Earth: the breath of life, death’s last gasp. Breath is the silent heart of meditation practice, and in archaic times, the words “air” and “breath” were interchangeable, perhaps as they should be.
Still, air—still air—ranks as one of the four elements in traditional cosmologies, associated with spring, the heart, and bright colors. But if air in its static state has classical associations, it is air in motion—dramatic, even catastrophic in its force and unpredictability—that fires the cross-cultural imagination.
In Chinese antiquity, the wind, or feng, was revered as a bird god—and serves as the introduction to feng shui, an ancient practice for ordering the domestic world in reference to the natural. Meanwhile, the ancient Greeks personified the winds by compass directions: Boreas, the bitter north wind, abducted an Athenian princess; Zephyrus, the mild west wind brought the young Psyche to Eros.
This mysterious unseen force suggests an otherworldly explanation. Freud even postulated a connection between human spirituality and the movement of air, citing the Hebrew word ruah, with its multiple connotations of “wind,” “spirit,” and “breath.”
But science breeds contempt. These days, we “condition” our air. Sealed away, we practice “climate control,” presuming mastery over an element once respected as the very breath of the gods. Mother Earth sighs. Ultimately, our well being and that of the air are inexorably linked. Breath—involuntary, unavoidable—keeps us at its mercy.
Yet it’s “an ill wind that bloweth no man to good,” declares the 16th-century proverb. Our dependence raises a gust of humility—a veritable breath of fresh air. NH
The Air Inside: You Are What You Breathe
Our homes are our sanctuary, safe and sealed against the elements. In days gone by, pure breezes blew gently through our open windows, stirring table linens or lace curtains, reminding us of the joys of a clean, clear summer day. Though breezes still blow, pure is no longer an appropriate description. And if the air outside is not as fresh as we remember, the air inside our homes, contrary to what most of us believe, is often worse.
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