I was sitting at home at my desk the day of this photo, working online for Planet Waves. Or, rather, I was trying to work and not succeeding very well. I had just gotten off the phone with my aunt who was dying. She was going through her final stages of cancer, close to the time my father was doing the same one year ago. I had visited her in February; this phone call on a sunny day in May was our goodbye, and we both knew it. I had made a point to tell her that I loved her and would miss her; she said the same to me.
I got off the phone and found myself a bit lost at sea, emotionally. I stared at the computer screen wondering how to focus enough to get even a little work done, but I realized this sea was more of a swamp: a bit murky in its vagueness; not quite the sharp point of loss, but rather its soft, current-less anticipation; one foot sinking deeper in as I tried to pull out the other. It occurred to me I also wasn’t trying very hard and wasn’t terribly interested in doing so. I wanted to feel justified in just sitting there, feeling, without a thought to any “processing.”
Suddenly I noticed my computer telling me my internet connection was lost, which made no sense till I picked up on the lack of music from the radio and then the beeping of my landline: the power had gone out.
It being a sunny day, the outage clearly was not due to a storm. I walked to the living room to look out my south-facing third-floor dormer window. A shockingly dark plume of smoke greeted me as it streamed just behind the 202-year-old signal tower on the next street. I followed the plume with my gaze down the hill to its source beyond the rooftops and knew instantly, given the location, that whatever accident had caused the fire would be responsible for the loss of power in the entire hilltop neighborhood I live in.
I’m still a bit amazed by how quickly my brain — indeed, my entire being — sprang into action. Literally the first thoughts to pop into my head were, “Grab the camera and the laptop and get down there.” I had to get to whatever unfortunate disaster was occurring and photograph it. I knew none of the nearest coffee shops would have power either, so I figured after my little photo field trip I’d continue the rest of the way downtown on foot to the next spot with WiFi and work.
Eventually I did manage to get to a coffee shop downtown, but not before giving over entirely to an obsession with the scene of the fire and blowing through a roll and a half of black and white film. It was exciting, dramatic, and absolutely captivating, from the engulfing thick black smoke in a stiff, steady wind to all the firefighters and trucks with lights and ladders and the throngs of people on two streets playing hooky from work to watch.
Finally out of film, hungry and needing to sit, I made my way to my new “office” and checked in with Eric. I did manage to do a little support research for that Friday’s issue. But when he heard what I had been doing and how excited I was, he gave his blessing to grab more film and keep photographing. I bought a mix of color and black and white rolls (but not enough — I made another trip for more later in the day) and I spent the late afternoon seeing and snapping, utterly fixated and for the first time thrilled that the long lens was the only one that worked on my ancient camera. It allowed for shots I never could have gotten otherwise from beyond the yellow tape.
Eventually I made my way home, exhausted but happy, feeling productive despite barely having “worked.” And I realized that what had happened felt like a minor miracle for me, who has often struggled so hard with decision-making and inertia and a little depression and a lot of self-judgment: action. It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? For me that day, it was huge. To know that in a moment of loss and feeling utterly lost, of new pain layered on top of old, of guilt even for how inert I was feeling, circumstances allowed for a creative moment and I allowed myself to embrace it without question or hesitation. I let myself be present and responsive; I let myself receive without getting in my own way first. I allowed for some grounding from an unexpected source and didn’t even notice it was happening until later. With that observation I felt incredible gratitude.
I realized recently that the current astrology, our current collective moment seems to carry a similar urging: let yourself be called to action. See the light of the Sun, the smoke, the signs all around; feel which way the wind is blowing and get upwind so you can get up close; let that fire light inside of you (or under you — which ever gets you moving sooner); find your feet and let them step out of the marsh onto solid ground — however it presents itself — and then keep walking. Leave behind what isn’t working and create something new that does.
Something tells me I’m going to have plenty of opportunities to keep practicing. In fact, I think we all will. I’m hoping to make the most of them, refrain from beating myself up when I don’t, and remember to feel grateful.
Amanda,
Thanks so much for sharing this. I lived on India Street for about 20 years right across the street from that building. It was a meat processing facility–a place of death and transformation–a kind of hellish scene. That it burned to the ground in an act of fire seems somehow alchemically correct. I remember the workers standing around or leaning against the outside brick walls smoking while on breaks. The front of their haz-mat overall suits stained with blood and smeared guts. Men and women, many minorities. Nothing went into that place that wasn’t different on the way out. It was just was a very strange place in the middle of an old mostly 19th century neighborhood. That you have captured its demise so beautifully and so in synch makes me hopeful for the awakening of creative transformation that lies latent in us all–only a moment, one decision away.
All the best,
Jude V.
Thanks Amanda and also Hazel (thank you for the depth of your affirmation).
Grief is a strange thing and a mysterious healer and catalyst of growth. It seems to me that a deeper engagement with my core is imminent. Comfort in and with self would appear to be beckoning to me on the horizon. I stumble my way toward it in the half light, aware of potholes and pitfalls – but the experience of them will surely all be a part of the end result.
I’m determined to put the Grim Reaper in touch with his sensitive side..
moonrose —
i hadn’t refreshed, so i missed your post. thank you for the interesting insight on what else may have been moving me. somehow, i hadn’t quite thought that far. that is, i think the action itself felt so right and natural and good, it didn’t occur to me to examine it too deeply. but yes, lovely point.
those moments (perhaps not as rare as they feel like they are) when i seem to just drop into “the flow” and am fully present are such gifts…
Dear HdW, (Alex), Well it sure sounds like you are having a right old time of it.
So, so sorry to hear about your Mum and how you find yourself – here and now – the last of that line. Losing your Mum and finding yourself…well, you are no doubt right that this is going to be a very interesting journey. You are up for it – more than able for it – inner love and strength will prevail.
Aside from your friends etc around you, I know you say they are not many, however, beyond them, you are not alone. Really, you are not alone. Sending warmest wishes, Hazel.
nance, jseward and michele — thank you!
len — you are too kind. belieive it or not, my first thought on reading your comment was: “but i really don’t feel like i’m ‘in the zone’ often enough!” yes, i tend to be hard on myself.
jennox — incredible. i’m glad not all of your cousin’s barn burned, and that you were able to come away from the experience and feel such resonance with what i wrote. how validating for both of us, i think.
half — i’ve been wondering where you’ve been! haven’t seen you here in a while. you have my sympathy and empathy for the loss of your mother; it’s huge. the inertia struggle… ugh. yes, even when i get moving, keeping momentum is a challenge. good luck!
i was reading eric’s guidance on the relationship focus of theses eclipses we’re in the midst of. of course, i’ve been thinking in terms of my intimate relationships with others. it occurred to me just now, vis a vis how hard i can be on myself, that my relationship to myself might be worth re-conceiving/recasting too.
hmmmm…
and of course, tremendous gratitude to eric for giving me the encouragement to write and a forum for it.
onwards…
Thank you so much moonrose, it means a lot to find encouragement and support. x
Half De Witte, so sorry about the loss of your mother. And I do wish for you resolve to see the many changes around you through, along with any healing that needs to take place.
If you don’t feel like praying, maybe just make a wish instead. 🙂
MoonRose
Amanda, I find it interesting that after saying goodbye to your aunt and while contemplating her impending death (so sorry) that you were compelled to run out the door to photograph a blazing fire of destruction, inevitably watching and documenting the building’s ruin and smoldering ashes. The symbology here is huge: fire, the great transformer, and from the ashes rises the phoenix, eh? From death comes life. Your aunt’s, or even a building’s burning of the old to make room for something new in some way. The timing of this to me is remarkable and something deeper than yourself, I’d venture, moved you to move.
And you did, even though: “…for me, who has often struggled so hard with decision-making and inertia and a little depression and a lot of self-judgment…”.
Thanks for the post, Amanda. You always come across in such a gentle, warm and compassionate way. Thank you for that about you.
xo
MoonRose
The week begins with this call. I lost my mother (and with her my final close ties to family of origin – I have no brothers, sisters or children of my own). It has been the toughest time. I’m still in a relationship drama of 3 years standing that is very complicated with little end in sight – so I have some comforts (some solid friends) but they are sparse. What a journey!
I have the same inertia struggle as Amanda, especially around my true core business on the planet (and being a Taurus too! – Thanks for pointing this out in fairly recent times, Eric). When you have nothing left external to mask your illusions you have to face them. I see what must be done for me. This piece simply reinforces that I must make it so.
I don’t really pray nowadays, but if I did it would be for resolve to see the changes through.
Thanks for a super piece to start the week, Amanda.
This was the most intense and truthful call to action I’ve read… Thank you. xm
Wow — This is unbelievable Amanda. I got a call about 3 hours ago that my cousin’s Barn was on fire… I arrived on the scene to find about 15 fire trucks, dozens of firefighters, hoses and equipment putting out the flames. The experience was both frightening and awesome, as I watched these brave volunteer firefighters bring the flames under control and save most of the barn (which was struck by lightening and burnt down the top floor). To come home and find calm and comfort I checked for blog updates and found your story. Coincidence? — I know better. Your words resonate with the way I am feeling. Especially, “See the light of the Sun, the smoke, the signs all around; feel which way the wind is blowing and get upwind so you can get up close; let that fire light inside of you (or under you — which ever gets you moving sooner); find your feet and let them step out of the marsh onto solid ground — however it presents itself — and then keep walking. Leave behind what isn’t working and create something new that does.” How beautiful. I knew this eclipse was working with my energy to let go of the old and bring in the new. My experience tonight has begun that manifestation. Thank you for your lovely reflections.
Thank you, Amanda. This is timely and pitch perfect. Give yourself a break. You are clearly in the zone
Amanda, thank you so much for your reflection and for the beautiful photograph. I think it is also significant that your “action” including being a witness for what was happening and sharing it with the rest of your community. More than ever we are being called to be witnesses for what is happening around us and reporting with honesty, integrity, and courage to the broader community. You literally put yourself in the line of fire and let nothing stand in your way! I’ll be remembering that in the coming days…
YES!