We have experienced an incredibly dry summer here in the Northwest. I have been reading with great concern about the fires in the Olympic National Park. The fires are burning in the rainforest. This is an area where fire is rare. But it hasn’t been rainy or snowy. I was in a section of the park a few days ago. The meadows were alarmingly brown and bare in many spots.
Fighting fires is a difficult job in any circumstances. Fighting forest fires can be quite dangerous. My husband read a book about a forest fire fighting tragedy in 1949, Young Men and Fire. The forest fighters parachuted into the Montana forest, loaded with their fire fighting equipment, which consisted of hand tools like shovels and axes. They had no water. Their job was to contain the fire by changing the landscape. The wind shifted suddenly. They were trapped. Mos of the men died.
One of the men was able to save himself by what must have required resisting every survival instinct he had. He knew the blaze was headed for him. He quickly doused the high grass around him with fuel and lit it on fire, to remove it, creating a circle of non-burnable material around him. He laid down in the center and held on tightly to roots on the ground as the blaze came to him. The convection currents lifted him off of the ground despite wearing full fire fighting gear. All the while he held fast to the roots as well as his breath to avoid fueling the fire. The fire passed because there was nothing to burn. By standing his ground instead of running away, he saved his life.
The most painful times in my mindfulness practice have been allowing myself to observe my most painful, heartbroken, angry, scary, helpless feelings and thoughts while minimizing judgment. It is still painful. But by doing my best to observe and withhold judgment, I am able to reduce the heat enough in order to withstand it. In doing so, I have not only found emotional survival but reduced suffering and at times, I even find myself to be in a place of peace.
In many ways, I am a careful person. I take pains to prevent fires. I don’t like crises. But I have learned to be more courageous and hold tightly to my roots, because there is no other way to stay whole.
Well written and heartfelt. Your analogies were beautiful comparing your own inner demons and fires with those of history and nature. I can feel your struggles and understand them well. My husband has been doing the terminal cancer dance the last two years. I have great empathy. I too live in Washington.
Candia, I am so sorry that your husband has terminal cancer. Thank you kindly for your empathy. I wish you love, comfort, and peace.
This is a lovely post. I have also found that practicing mindfulness helps me experience difficult things in a manageable way. All the best to you 🙂
Thank you for reading, Veronica! I am glad that you are finding mindfulness to be a useful practice. I have been practicing for over three years now and it has been a blessing in my life. I wish all of the best to you, as well!
I’ve been thinking about this post for a few days now. I also read the book Young Men and Fire and was in awe of the firefighter who had the presence of mind to go into the fire in order to survive when every physical instinct was to run away from it. In fact, those that did run didn’t survive. The same instinct to run away comes up for me when I am in fear and yet those times that I willed myself to sit with the fear, I have always come away with new insight, understanding and ease.
Cheryl, it is a very compelling and dramatic image, so much so that I hesitated and I asked myself if it was really apt. And then I thought about it. There are parts of life that are really really hard. Nonetheless there are ways we can reduce the suffering of these times, and thank goodness for that! Thanks for reading and commenting!
How profoundly perceptive. You are wise, my friend. xoxo, Kathi
Thank you! It takes one to know one!
It is inspiring to read your blog and the comments of others. Great people!
Takes one to know one!