Thursday, Jul. 08, 2004
What you hear on this page is the silent sound of anguish. My home is going up in smoke as we speak. Not my home, personally, nor even the town where I live (at least so far). But this entire state is aflame, or nearly so. We've been warned to prepare for rolling blackouts. Power and telephone lines have been burned by unpredictable wildfires that seem to spring up in the space of a single breath and spread destruction and horror. A fire near Phoenix did significant damage to a power station, exacerbating an already fragile corner of a massive power grid.
I saw the awesome fury of the Rodeo-Chedisky fire a couple of years ago, a monster that burned half a million acres of our precious Ponderosa Pine forests. But what it did, it did alone, or nearly so. This year, the monster fires aren't so large, but there are so many, one behind and on top of another. Put one out, another comes in behind it a day or two later. Get one of the monsters under control and it breaks free of its restraints, mocking man's efforts to protect what we hold dear.
I know that the fires on Mt. Graham near the telescope have made national and international news because of the endangered squirrel species and because of the telescope project - but that's only one of countless areas being ravaged by fires.
I've never seen it this bad. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared. Even if we're fortunate enough to escape a wildfire in this immediate vicinity - which is by no means guaranteed - we will bear a financial impact as a community, and emotional and psychological impact as individuals. The scars from disaster are far deeper than the trite news reports can explain. They steal away your sense of personal security and fly its tattered remains like a bloodied banner, mocking your soul with it, reminding you that it's no longer yours.
In one of his notes to me here, Dangerspouse said something about the plagues of Job. If I break out in boils, I'm coming after him. I don't need anything more at the moment, thank you.
00 and Pipeboy moved out. They made a deal with me. Since Pipeboy's got a queen-sized bed and I have a full-sized one, and their apartment is too small for a queen size, they asked to trade. I agreed before they let me know that the queen sized bed is still in storage because they can't pick it up with Pipeboy's truck. It's too big. I should be monumentally irritated with them, but at the moment I'm simply too tired to care. It's irrelevant that I worked the overtime for that bed - it was a bonus from work. I've slept on it a sum total of less than one week since I got it.
But at the moment I'm beyond trying to make sense of anything, beyond hoping for any parity in this life. I still believe that everything happens for a reason. I'm just too weary to look for those reasons right now.
Tomorrow was supposed to be a vacation day, one long overdue and already approved. In reality it will probably end up being simply a day that I work from home. The only nice thing about it is the ability to work in my underwear, or my pajamas, if I so choose. That, and being able to pack more quickly should disaster strike here, which is certainly within the realm of possibility.
I realize how morose this all sounds, and it is. It's impossible to see the scope of these fires and not be heartsick. Particularly when you realize that there's not only no end in sight, but it's going to get worse before it gets better.
Before - After
In the grander scheme of things, no soul can truly be replaced. Each one of us has a place in the universal tapestry. We each contribute our own color and texture. When one thread is snipped too soon, it distorts all the threads around it. Other lives can unravel and tear. If the wrong thread is ripped away, the whole fabric of life becomes dangerously fragile.
- LeiLani, aka Radiogurl aka Bright Opal (1957 - )