Summer and Smoke

With apologies to Tennessee Williams

It’s been a hard few weeks. I feel resentful. Unappreciated. I need to vent.

If you’ve been in the Pasadena area the past few days, you know the smell — smoke, something electrical that has burned, is permeating in the air. The air quality is poor. We’re told to stay indoors.

My eyes burn. My nose runs. I’m sneezing more than usual. I generally take care to keep myself in a healthy environment. Not today. I valued a hike more than I worried about breathing fire-laden air.

I know many people experience trauma from this smell — sensory reminders of those fateful days a year and a half ago. I’m not sure why, but it didn’t happen exactly that way for me. I don’t mean the smell isn’t bothersome. I just refused to let it take me over.

It was breezy, which made the air feel pleasant against my skin even if it smells bad. It took a while on the trail, and some forced mental focus, to tune out the smell and turn up the view. And the sounds.

I finally looked up into the trees and sky and heaved a huge sigh. Oh, yes. Here I am. And it is all still here.

I marvel at the earth’s ability to take care of itself. Why can’t we care for ourselves the same way? Fire happens. It is part of the ecosystem — barring the manmade events of January 7th, 2025.

There are lessons here for all of us. Let it be. Sometimes we need to step back and let ourselves just be. I have a lot going on right now. A lot of waiting. No one likes waiting, but wait we must. I think giving in to the moment can ease that endless sense of waiting. Find the joy in the peace of right now. I am struggling to be my own teacher.

Time moves forward whether we like it or not, at the pace it pleases. Sometimes it’s a whirlwind. Sometimes it’s like honey slowly flowing from the jar. Those who know me know I am stuck in the honey jar, wanting to leap into the whirlwind.

My frustration comes from the unknown — how it will be to get through this period. I want to be in a more constructive time, where I feel my time and effort are valued. How do we live in uncertainty, through a time we know is difficult? Certainly I have found some answers in my trail escapes. But it is like a drug with a short half-life.

I hate that I am not settled in the moment. I want it to just pass. But how do I know how much time is left? I should be savoring it. I am not.

It must be human nature to always be thinking of what’s next, waiting for the next thing to happen. Like an endless tape playing in my head. I just want to turn it off sometimes.

That is what nature does. It is its impermanence and its sameness that transports you. I am back from my hike now, back in the world. But yes — I let it take me there. A brief respite from what ails us all.

My goal is to wear that state of being like an impermeable bubble. So that nothing can disturb my calm.

Back to the trails next week. All about native plants.