Moments of impermanence

On Monday morning the Sesnon fire started some ten miles away from our home, and was moving quickly Southwest. It was somewhat relieving to find out that it was proceeding the other way. We were advised, just in case, to pack, and also to take our irreplaceable items.

I found myself walking from room to room, looking at our belongings, at our stuff. Furniture, art, clothes, books, music, kitchenware, electronics, and even our little rock collection — all looked like stuff, like replaceable items. I was surprised by two different feelings I experienced simultaneously; a quiet willingness to leave all our stuff behind, and a core-gripping feeling of impermanence. A light connection line ran between the two, as they were complementing each other.
















On Tuesday morning we woke up to the bad news - the fire had changed direction during the night, and now was moving swiftly towards our neighborhood. My daughter, Aria (6) and I went to check on the situation outside, and saw the blaze coming down the hills of our neighboring O'Melveny Park. A couple of hours later, we watched the sixty foot flames threatening to reach the backyards of some houses bordering the park, about seven blocks away from our home.















A police car announced an evacuation, and I took Aria to stay with friends, then returned back home. I walked in and around the house, and felt as if I was watching a movie. It was all part of reality, yet, on the same token, it felt like it might not be.

The fire was contained that afternoon and was stopped right at the neighborhood's edge, thanks to the many helicopter water drops, and the firefighters on the ground. Luckily — no houses were damaged, and no life was taken. Only O'Melveny Park, mostly burnt, is standing there, with its black ashed hills, like a witness, testifying to what had actually happened, and how right now - it is all over.

Soon, there will be new flowers, grasses, green bushes and trees growing there, erasing the signs of this fire — dancing its simple twirl of impermanence.