Jenn is at home working on jewelry and enjoying newly scoured air thanks to the air purifier we bought yesterday. As I write this, eastern Arizona is ablaze. The Wallow Fire is sending plumes of smoke, ash, and particulate matter as far east as Iowa--1310 miles away. The fire itself has consumed roughly 670+ square miles. In comparison, Rhode Island is 1044 square miles. Due to high winds and drought conditions, the fire is only 5% contained. I'm not sure what this five percent figure means, but it's clear we are in the midst of an environmental disaster.
A week ago I drove home from work through a dense fog of smoke drifting in from the west. I quite literally could not see the Sandia Mountains--the 28 mile range lining the eastern part of the city; nor could I see the vast west mesa on the opposite side of town. The entire outdoors was permeated with the familiar (and usually pleasant) odor of campfire while 3000 plus firefighters worked around the clock to get a handle on this thing.
Jenn and I attended a birthday party for a friend last night. One of the attendee's told us her ex-husband used to be on a local fire fighting brigade. He told her that when it came to forest fires, Mother Nature contributed as much to putting out fires as anything, and that human intervention really had very little to do with it. This is bleak news for the southwest, and Albuquerque in particular, where but a few wisps of clouds have been spotted in the sky over the last two weeks, and the setting sun has taken on the shape and color of a bisected blood orange.
It is times like these that the male imperative dictates that we do, well, something. Anything. I feel a powerful need to act, and if my wife wasn't on the verge of having our child, I very well might head west to see how I could contribute. As it stands, all I can do is pray.
I'm feeling a bit freaked out. The New Mexican spring winds, which generally last a month-and-a-half have now been swirling around unabated for nearly three months. A spokesman for the firefighters admitted yesterday that they have only achieved what little progress they have due to the winds dying down for the last two days. As I write, from my vantage point at my regular Starbucks table, I look out the picture window to see sprigs of tall grass bowing under the force of the easterly wind. Not good.
And those poor forest animals.
(Two days later) The fire is now approximately 190 miles east Albuquerque.
"It's not like we weren't feeling challenged enough," I whined to Jenn this morning, "what with a baby on the way, making arrangements for a home birth, and trying to create a viable living. No, Spirit had to set us square in the path of the worst forest fire in the history of the Southwest."
Jenn laughed, as well she should. It's bullshit, of course. We moved to New Mexico because we felt guided to do so, and relocation was absolutely, 100% our choice. Sometimes the soul makes decisions that the mind doesn't understand. It is not inconceivable that Jenn and I chose this abysmal-yet-perfect time to move to Albuquerque because, on a spiritual level, we needed to experience being on the edge of a massive forest fire.
I am reminded of a famous East Indian master who, after a bomb went off near his compound, injuring several people, said, "Why not here too?" I took this to mean that, Hey, bombs are being set off all across the planet, why should this little slice of India be the exception.
Could the same be said for earthquakes, forest fires, Republicanism, and other natural disasters?
(June 16th) Intellectually, I see the wisdom of radical acceptance. Emotionally, however, I'm feeling pissed and scared. Pissed because a couple of nimrods decided it would be a good idea to leave a
campfire unattended in the middle of an incredibly windy season in the water-starved Arizona forest; scared for the health of my family, for the trees and the critters, for the planet and ozone layer. Having said all that, I hold these beliefs as true and self-evident:
--That there is such a thing as karma, and that karma, rather than a form of punishment, is the ripening of positive and negative spiritual seeds we have sewn in this, and previous lives.
--That reincarnation is a fact, and each life offers us the opportunity to heal whatever needs to be healed from our previous incarnations.
--That aside from psychedelic past life insights during ayahuasca ceremonies, I have no memory of any of my past lives and am okay with this. As far as I'm concerned, I could remember a thousand previous lifetimes, but my work this life around would still be my work this life around.
--That--apropos of nothing--if the upcoming NFL season isn't canceled, the Packers stand a better-than-average chance of repeating as Super Bowl champs.
--That any fear or anger I generate in my mind only harms myself, yet I continue to generate it.
This last point brings me back to (cough, cough) the approaching forest fire. Lets see if this link works from June 16th:
http://www.weather.com/outlook/weather-news/news/articles/fire-now-largest-in-Arizona-history_2011-06-15
http://nmfireinfo.wordpress.com/2011/06/19/wallow-fire-update-6102011-1030-am/
Reportedly, the Wallow Fire is now 29% contained after burning over 700 square miles, but high winds are predicted for the next 3-4 days. The skies are once again hazy, and I wore a surgical mask on my drive to the cafe this afternoon. I don't know if the masks help or not, but they've become a kind of forest fire security blanket that allows me to feel as if I actually am doing something to protect my lungs.
The same friend who's ex- was a fire fighter, handed out bumper stickers to all takers at another recent gathering. It says this: "Visualize Rain."
Thus, to all my devoted readers out there--a small-but-mighty force that, by all estimates, number in the tens of ones--and especially to our soggy friends in the Northwest who are heading into their eighth straight month of clouds and rain, here is my message-in-a-bottle: Please take a moment to offer up a prayer for the entire Southwest. Visualize Rain.
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