I Hike to Write: Nature-Inspired Writing
  • Home
  • A Brief Bio
  • Blog: I Hike to Write
  • Contact
  • Stories About Mom's Last Days

Hanging Onto Home

5/15/2020

0 Comments

 
As Juan and I began to eliminate stuff and prepare our house for the market, our dear friends Lynne and Michael lost their home and everything in it to the Camp Fire that ravaged the town of Paradise, California, on November 8, 2018.
Picture
Lynne and Michael's home
Picture
They have green thumbs, for sure!
Picture
Happy fern in Lynne's garden
Picture
Fern ghosts
Lynne and I communicate regularly on the phone, so as the shock of the fire grew a little less intense, we talked at great length about the vastly different, yet parallel, experiences we were sharing regarding our belongings and our homes. Lynne’s chosen way of referring to their loss, “All our stuff went to heaven!” was contrasted by my “We have way too much friggin’ stuff!” Lynne’s “We don’t have a home anymore” countered my “I can’t wait to get out from under our mortgage!” In the face of their loss, Lynne could have felt my whining insensitive, but she is always gracious and, in truth, was more intrigued by our different realities than inclined to begrudge me. 
Picture
Our lilacs in spring
PictureJuan's and my home
While Lynne struggled to function in the face of her loss, I found, despite my excitement for our upcoming adventure, that I, too, was flooded with feelings of loss as I anticipated leaving the home and land and friends I loved.

​Lynne and I talked about such shearing sorrow, and contemplated the essence of home, trying to discover a passageway through the cave of grief that might lead to a shaft of light and a release from our yearnings. How do you let go? 

Picture
Picture



​Practicing Buddhists consider this a very juicy place to be, one in which a person is given the opportunity to shuck off life’s complexities and attachments and embrace the freedom that comes with doing so.

​It doesn’t come easily, let me tell you, and my journey has been a cakewalk compared to all that Lynne and Michael have had to surmount.

Lynne and I have worked hard to understand each other's experience and to offer empathy and support, all the while laughing together at the convoluted ways in which we are adapting. I think we both agree with the Buddhist perspective. This is indeed a juicy place to be. As we cultivate our ability to live with less, Lynne and I both feel lighter on fundamental levels we could never have imagined.  

Picture
The burned trees had to come down
0 Comments



Leave a Reply.

    Picture

    Author


    I have been a dirt monkey for as long as I can recall - hiding in the rabbit runs woven throughout dogwood thickets near my childhood home in Western New York, winter camping in a tipi in New Hampshire, living 3/4 of a mile up a trail next to a Northern California wilderness, and now living in Western Montana where my husband, Juan, and I create our art and enjoy the many wild places.   

    Archives

    May 2020
    April 2020
    June 2018
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    March 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015

    Categories

    All
    Breast Cancer
    Creativity
    Death And Dying
    Downsizing
    Energy Efficiency
    Fall Colors
    In Love With Your Dog
    Living On The Road
    Living Small
    Living Up A Mountain Trail
    Losing Everything
    Making Room For Time
    Purging
    Simplifying Life
    Spring
    Struggling With Attachment
    Summer
    The Camp Fire
    Tiny Home
    Voluntary Simplicity
    Wildfires
    Wildflowers
    Wildlife
    Winter
    Winter's Meditations

    RSS Feed

Proudly powered by Weebly
  • Home
  • A Brief Bio
  • Blog: I Hike to Write
  • Contact
  • Stories About Mom's Last Days