[photo from Yosemite hike, 2016]
Sometimes, we find explanations for life in odd metaphors.
When my college boyfriend and I broke up several years ago, I remembered it like a fire - heated and painful. It was like all the years we grew up together suddenly caught on flames and then burned down right in front of us.
A few years later, as I was training for my ascent up Half Dome, gearing up and hiking almost every weekend, I came across a section of a trail in Auburn one day where signs were posted to educate hikers passing by. The sign was about a forest management technique that foresters use to control the abundance and overpopulation of trees, called prescribed fire. The benefits are that it stimulates the growth of new and stronger trees, reduce over-crowding where nutrients aren't enough to spread around, and help prevent unplanned disasters. In a way, it's like when farmers burn their own fields to take out the toxic bugs living in their crops.
I sat on this concept for a while; as the state was amidst in fear of wildfires and severe droughts, it was a strange idea to use fire as a means of growth. As I continued my hiking adventures, from Berryessa to Lake Tahoe, I became more aware of the blackened areas of land that resulted from recent controlled fires. Among the ashes, I also noticed the scattered trees still standing, barely scorched, and still alive. It was their time to begin anew, feeding from the abundant sunlight it probably hadn't been exposed to before. Nature has a way of growing back again, and for the first time, I finally understood and was reassured.
Maybe we are the trees that grew out of the fire. Maybe, despite our roots, we needed the fire in order to create room for individual development; whereas we used to give away our own depleted resources in order to take care of one another. Though we may be at different places now, we're growing in soil that not only promotes our own strength but also our own versatility in the world. And because of this, we have another chance to start over.
Nature can teach us that there's a continuous cycle of growth and decay and sometimes, it's vital to let things happen. As I reached the summit of Half Dome, with renewed strength, I took solace in knowing that not everything was destroyed in the fire.
