Mind States December 2007
The Fires Of Change
by Jesse Wolf Hardin
The Earth is a magical set of processes, forever subject to the cycles of natural stress and catastrophe. Some mountain ranges were midwifed by great uplifts and others by fearsome volcanic surges. The arrival of new life forms has often signaled the disappearance of others, throughout the long history of this Gaian Earth Mother. It is nonetheless difficult to name a period in history when there’s been the amount of natural and man made disasters than what is occurring right now.
The Southern California fires of 2007 were as bad as any in recent times, coming as they did during the worst drought in decades. The most fortunate of the evacuated residents returned to standing structures, while others sifted through the ash of their once-comforting homes for keepsakes that might have survived. These most recent conflagrations bring to mind our own near escape from devouring flames, when blazes in the mountains of southwest New Mexico scorched 40,000 acres of juniper and pine and barely missed a few nearby towns. We shudder when we remember the 300 feet tall wall of orange that came within two miles of our beloved retreat center and when we recall the torment of trying to decide which of our belongings to gather and which to leave.
With these incidents we are discovering the effects of rural sprawl, too many years of fire suppression, an increase in fast growing non-native species, and changes in the climate caused by a combination of both natural historic cycles and human activity. Spiritually or philosophically, the proximity of fire brings us out of reverie and distraction and into an awakened presence. It also tests our commitment to place. Natural disasters force us to acknowledge both our ultimate mortality and the insistent power of transformation. They also lead us to reevaluate our priorities, focus for awhile on who and what matters most, strengthen community, and distinguish those who rise to the challenge of helping others in times of hardship.
As a society, we might take a lesson from the increasing degree and intensity of disasters worldwide—drought in some parts, terrific floods in others, more hurricanes than ever, epidemics featuring ever more drug resistant strains of bacteria, not to mention mass genocide and unspeakable war. It’s as if Earth and Spirit were getting louder in an effort to grab our attention. Each species that goes extinct asks “Is anyone home? Does anyone notice? Does anyone care?” Every blighted landscape is an alarm ringing to wake us up.
At the same time, the songs of the birds do their best to win over our ears and a welcome sensuality and joy floats on the wind-borne scent of every spring flower. If we are to live whole and full lives, and if we as a species are to survive, it will be because we have learned to listen to the warning and imploring, as well as the singing and exulting, of the Earth and have begun to apply the lessons we have learned in ways that benefit not only us but the whole of creation.
In the Northwest and other parts of the world, there are varieties of coniferous trees whose pods open only after being ravaged by a quick burn. Like with those stubborn cones, it often takes a firestorm to expose in us the seeds of our potential. Looking back, I recall not only the terror of the fires that occurred in our canyon, but also how this canyon looked the day afterwhen most of the smoke had once again blown out, leaving just enough to give the last rays of the sun an impossibly yellow glow. The volcanic cliffs I love so much, the trees I have planted and worried about, and even the river appeared bathed in gold. I pledge my life to seeing that the Animá Center continues to host folks for deep connection and life-changing realizations. I will certainly do my best to see that this reforested sanctuary never burns down. At the same time, I hope to one day learn how to welcome, like those tight-fisted cones, the release of flames, the heated passion of fire and change.
Jesse Wolf Hardin is an acclaimed teacher of Animá earth-centered practice and the author of five books including Gaia Ero (New Page, 2004). He and his partners offer inspiring online Anima and Medicine Woman courses, as well as host students and guests for wilderness retreats, personal and couples counsel, vision quests, internships and events in their enchanted river canyon and ancient place of power: Animá Wilderness Retreat Center & Medicine Woman Tradition, Box 688, Reserve, NM 87830. www.animacenter.org