We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires and comets inside us.
We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand.
-Robert McCammon
Humans are natural disasters. We are mirror images of the forests, oceans and valley floors that surround us. We are doves, capable of extending an olive branch. We are the quivering leaves of an aspen. We are the rocks made smooth by the crashing waves that beat upon us. If we could see ourselves as we truly are, we would weep at the beauty. We are earthquakes that rip the land asunder. We are tsunamis rolling over everything in our wake. We are pebbles thrown into a pond. We are chapters of a forest.
We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand.
-Robert McCammon
Humans are natural disasters. We are mirror images of the forests, oceans and valley floors that surround us. We are doves, capable of extending an olive branch. We are the quivering leaves of an aspen. We are the rocks made smooth by the crashing waves that beat upon us. If we could see ourselves as we truly are, we would weep at the beauty. We are earthquakes that rip the land asunder. We are tsunamis rolling over everything in our wake. We are pebbles thrown into a pond. We are chapters of a forest.
I have always had a hard time with our species. It has always been easier for me to deal with us as a forest as opposed to individual trees. We seem clearer as a whole. Easier to hold in my hands. Like holding a globe, you can see all the patterns and connections. I see honesty and compassion. I see anger and resentment. I see fear. Fear is the water. It makes up 75% of who we are. I am scared to write this.
So much has happened since I spoke to you last. A forest has burnt to the ground and been reborn from its ashes. I'm in love with that idea. Death as birth. Winter as spring. Suffering as joy. I think it started on our road trips to the coast. The wind blowing in our hair. Roadside Pancakes and Green Day on a loop. We could smell the fish and feel the sand in our toes. The best part , besides the pancakes and Green Day, was driving through the ruins of the Tillamook forest. The Tillamook forest fire was a series of four wildfires that raged over a span of 18 years burning 355,000 acres of old growth timber. There was nothing left. A forest of skeletons. But then something magical happened. It happened so slowly that I almost missed it. Little green saplings growing out of the ash. Every time we passed through I searched for new life and kept a running tally in my mind. I was that forest's biggest fan.
When you left, my life burned to the ground, but saplings grew from the ashes. I want you to know me. To know them. To read our chapters. Dad, this is my olive branch.
So much has happened since I spoke to you last. A forest has burnt to the ground and been reborn from its ashes. I'm in love with that idea. Death as birth. Winter as spring. Suffering as joy. I think it started on our road trips to the coast. The wind blowing in our hair. Roadside Pancakes and Green Day on a loop. We could smell the fish and feel the sand in our toes. The best part , besides the pancakes and Green Day, was driving through the ruins of the Tillamook forest. The Tillamook forest fire was a series of four wildfires that raged over a span of 18 years burning 355,000 acres of old growth timber. There was nothing left. A forest of skeletons. But then something magical happened. It happened so slowly that I almost missed it. Little green saplings growing out of the ash. Every time we passed through I searched for new life and kept a running tally in my mind. I was that forest's biggest fan.
When you left, my life burned to the ground, but saplings grew from the ashes. I want you to know me. To know them. To read our chapters. Dad, this is my olive branch.
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