Today, I stand under one of the tallest trees in the world. A fire burned through this forest recently, which altered the land and all that grew here. These great redwoods were hollowed out yet still stand in witness. Their wise silence is only altered by the wind.

On this day, south of the Redwoods, other fires have been raging. I myself was born there. People I know and love have just witnessed much of their lives burn to the ground. But then I look at the base of the great charred redwood. I am struck by a fierce energy coming from beneath the ground. New life is sprouting through the bark, reaching for the sun. There is a relentless power in life to grow despite the ravages of nature or recklessness or cruelty of humans.

Right now, the country struggles with a reality and a kind of toxicity that threatens gender, livelihood, or safe shelter. You (and I) are not immune to this, and there is no empty platitude or advice to give. Perhaps in such a difficult world, your own history compels you to disassociate or to hide. But despite the state of things, you may recognize a deeper awareness, a fierce attunement informed by all you have suffered. You may remember your deep empathy and a strength you possess because of it to still hold your face to the sun.

Today and in the days to come, you will know you must be safe. You will need to hold your boundaries, especially with those who do not hold or respect what you stand for. You will have to parse truth from the conspiracy of lies you may hear, for it is tempting to mistake paranoia for vigilance. But perhaps you will also seek refuge in spaces that offer solace and true community, and want to share this with others as well. You may recognize a profound courage inside yourself even when you tremble. It will be a language and power you find coming from you, like shoots sprouting from the burned bark, to stand tall.

You must rest, and then you must rise—better, stronger—and like the great redwood, ready to meet what comes.

“...Spaces fill  
with a kind of  soothing electric vibration.  Our senses, restored, never  
to be the same, whisper to us.  
They existed. They existed.  
We can be.

Be and be better.

For they existed....¹”

¹Angelou, Maya. (1987). When great trees fall. Retrieved from: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/when-great-trees-fall-by-maya-angelou