I have just returned to my little home in Santa Barbara after an evacuation that lasted for five days as fires raged across the hillsides and mountains of my town. It’s been a long five days. I am a bit shaky and numb.
Walking up the steps I take a breath and my lungs fill with smoke. Usually the air here is clean and full of oxygen. Today, it feels harsh inside my chest and throat.
My home has a 260 degree view of the mountains reaching out to the sea. I look out my window and notice that I am not allowing myself to fully see the change. I glance at the vast dark area of fire eaten space and instantly find a memory of how it used to be, the light green hills, the deep green-blue of the mountains and the sense of peace this place conveyed. The beauty is engraved in my heart and mind. I don’t really want to see how it is now.
I look down into my neighborhood. It’s strange. The homes across the street are still and quiet. Flowers bloom in the gardens and rest on picket fences. Majestic trees stand beside the homes as wise and patient guardians of this small street.
Behind the homes there is a small hill. Birds sing and the hawks circle as before. About 500 yards behind the hill, the fire’s world begins.
As I continue to look, I find it difficult to breathe. I breathe too deeply, gasping for air. A new world greets me, one which I do not embrace. The world I see startles and disturbs my sense of self.
The charred earth with smoke still rising covers the distance between me and the sky. A few trees stand silent on the mountain, stark black shadows of their former selves looking out on the vacant space. I scan the area as far as I can see looking for something familiar, something to comfort me as I work to accept the change.
There on the mountain in the midst of the black and smoke filled land is one very large dark green bush. The fire must have skipped it somehow. It is the only recognizable element in the land I had completely cherished five days before.
I find myself riveted on the green color in the middle of the black land. Everything else disappears. I begin to relax, simply allowing myself to view the scene as it is now.
My home is intact as are all the homes on my small street. The birds are singing and the flowers are reaching up out of gardens and spilling color onto wooden gates. People are in their driveways cleaning up ash, helping each other unload cars as they return home. We are all working together in ways I have not experienced before, neighbor to neighbor, stranger to stranger, town to town.
I am suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude as I look and see how close the fire came to me and how safe my neighborhood remained. I am safe. Everyone here is safe. No lives were lost. Most of our homes were saved. And, even on the ravaged hillsides, plants live.
A few moments ago I could not see what had happened in my world. Now I view the scene, facing the change and what remains.
The idea that my circumstances are secure is a false idea. Change happens in an instant. Homes can be lost, economies crash, floods will destroy cities but there is at least one constant, the human spirit, the human heart. It is people who inspire us. People risk their lives for one another. People find a way to rebuild no matter what happens in their lives.
I read recently that in the country of Bhutan the government measures the strength of its economy according to the gross national happiness of its citizens. When asked about what makes the people of Bhutan happy, a government official said, “The people tell us they are happy because they are caring for our land, taking care of each other, appreciating each other, and helping the earth”.
On this day after the fire, I find myself wondering what it would be like if the USA measured the strength of its economy according to the gross national happiness or the gross national quiet joy. The human heart cannot be fooled. We know that happiness does not depend on things. Happiness is the result of caring.
How powerful a force would we be in the world, if we united under a commitment to care for our environment, to help each other, to value our relationships and take care for the earth? I imagine our country would ignite with the invincible flame of the human spirit. The change would be vast and quick, reaching across the world as we realize there is a “substance” to happiness. The “substance” is not material but it can be felt. It is the substance of love, being willing to reach out and help someone, not because it is the right thing to do but because it is the natural thing to do if one wants to be happy and to enjoy being fully human.
Personally, I feel more secure than I have in a long time even though I am more aware of my vulnerability in this time of change. My home is safe but that is not the source of this deep and silent gratitude and happiness.
I am secure because I know that my friends have helped me and that the people in my town helped each other. I am happy because we took care of each other, neighbor to neighbor and stranger to stranger and we did our best to help the land.
It is night now. The stars shine brilliantly in the sky. My view from the window is the same as it always is at night, vast expanses of blue black sky filled with sparkling light. The mountains are resting. The land is regenerating. The people are home and will soon be asleep. The only unusual sound is the helicopters flying overhead, keeping watch on our town, so all will be safe.
I am quiet, watching the stars bless the mountains in the night sky.