Moments before what is sure to be known as the Great Santa Rosa Fire darkened the day in a frozen red ember sun and changed the sound/sight/city/soulscape of thousands of lives, I thought about machinery and man-made plumes garbed in grey. Between then and now burnt half pages of books land on my porch, masks masks and more masks made appearances, dogs were walked, people perched like lollipop licks around the gooy tootsie roll center of petrol pumps, cars crammed children and pets and papers out of town, facebook became real important, and those of us who stayed in town watched and waited, looked and leaned to the fate of the gods, prepared and helped as best as we could, sweated, breathed (badly), relaxed, then sweated, and continue to carry both in the boil of our blood as the fire-breathing dragon still scours the land.
I thought of and did draw a dragon on this I-think-it’s-all-clear-but-never-know-we’ll-see-as-the-wind-gods-might-decide-to-change-their-tune-and-the-dragon-his-dance morning, but he’s not what I feel. I feel a mighty strong beautiful flower… the seeds of a Fire Flower to be more accurate as I witness and feel and see the seeds of a community in kindness and camaraderie much more powerfully than the quick karate-chop changes that came upon us overnight. And so the Fire Flower sprouts seeds of humanity and beauty and compassion, and may we continue to do so in the renewing of life on these once Pomo lands that we call home.
A thousand and one blessings to all affected by the fire’s scorched breath, especially those with lost loves.
On the Shelf