Dec 3, 2011

I know it’s not Darfur. It’s not Somalia or Iraq. It’s not Katrina or Fukushima or the World Trade Center. I know our own Station Fire destroyed so much more. I know.

We’re very lucky. I know for the most part that structures did not topple. It wasn’t human lives ripped apart. We didn’t have damage from bombs or bullets. It could have been so much worse. I know, I know.
But I also know that we dearly loved all those uprooted trees. We loved the way they shaded us. We loved the way they turned our hectic urban jungle into a beautiful urban forest. Like contemporary pagans, we don’t just like the landscaping — we love the company of trees. When one falls, we feel it like the loss of a spiritual cousin. When hundreds of trees are lost, it starts to feel like there is some kind of rift in the rightness of things.
While I’m grateful that most trees were spared, I’ve seen so many fallen ones in South Pas and Pasadena in the last few days, I feel shaken. Familiar landscapes are changed and I can’t pretend that I won’t miss what used to be. And one thing is for certain: the Christmas tree lots with all those chopped-down trees seem a bit ghoulish now.

Read the Full Story at Glimpses of South Pasadena



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