Face to face with:
- My mortality.
- I didn’t care if 1/3 of my stuff burned.
- The unknown.
What occurred to me:
- Fire is cleansing.
- I’ve already taken suitcases, packed my life into bags, and lived in a 9x20ft. room with my entire family.
- I was not frozen in fear.
What I did:
- Packed my dog a bag.
- Packed 10 bags/tubs for me.
- Made a list of what to do if fire hit my town.
What went on inside, chronologically:
- I need a purpose.
- I can and will survive no matter what happens. And not only that. We will be okay.
Last week in Northern California fires broke out. Everywhere. Overnight.
People just miles from me were awoken by a neighbor pounding on their door, yelling for them to run. They walked out their front door and saw fire eating toward them. Grabbed their families, their pets, jumped in their vehicles, and did just that. Ran for their lives.
And lost everything.
There was a fire about ten miles in front of me. A fire twenty miles to my side. A fire fifty feet behind me. (those are my rough estimates)
I was waiting.
To see if my apartment would burn.
A funny thing happened.
I threw out old, huge paintings. I threw out clothes I never wear. I threw out clothes I loved but never wore because they were itchy or constricting. I threw out loads of books I no longer wanted to read again or that were lukewarm.
I decided I was tired of lukewarm.
I went through my entire room and got rid of things I never used. I got rid of one-third of my belongings.
And it felt good.
It felt great.
I took everything off my walls.
I have a bag full of papers I’m going to burn (in a safe way, don’t freak out).
It was this insane burning inside me. This sudden, intense urge hit. But it didn’t just hit me. It ran through me. It brought me to life. It let me look at everything I owned and see it as a part of myself.
Some of me was cankering, old, dying. A piece of nature needing to be pruned. Weighing me down.
So I pruned.
In the past five years, since moving up here. I have changed. Insanely. Beautifully. Messily.
But my physical environment had not.
Somehow, I took the instant fear due to these fires, and let it almost just as instantly change into something purifying.
I re-organized my entire room.
The place in the living room where I write. (my version of an office in an apartment where I share a room lol)
The wall next to me in the living room.
Let me tell you.
It feels good.
The point I’m trying to get across (mostly to myself, but hopefully, your eavesdropping can help you) …
I let it
I didn’t run from what I felt. Even though what I was feeling was quite scary.
I gave myself a purpose tied to what I was feeling.
I did not deny.
I did not ignore.
I did not justify.
I did not make excuses.