My husband and I spent six days in Glacier National Park, Montana, USA. The scenery was breathtaking in its beauty, including the forests, deeply scarred by fires that have turned miles and miles of lush pine into charred posts. And the rock and water and animal life. Bravo, God! Bravo!
Think of fire. In its reserved mood it warms hands and souls; in its wanton mood it burns, blackens and blisters. There almost infinite analogies: healing, purifying, cleaning, rebirth, devastation, death, home, heart, rage, love. An odd side effect of abuse is my love of word pictures and analogies. What I once used in desperation to convey meaning to one utterly devoid of empathy, I now use because they bring me joy. I love the word pictures. And many come to mind from the gorgeous views of creation I saw. But, for now:
The trees die, whether in the fire pit or the forest. The rocks are ripped from their places of origin, and rolled or tossed, remaining angular or becoming rounded and smooth. Water, frost, wind, heat…all do their part. Change, in the form of destruction and reconstruction, is unavoidable in the landscape. I can’t explain away pain and loss, but I can see hope from nature, that no matter how much the fire takes, there is ALWAYS some kind of beauty to be found…and potential for ever so much more. Even the beautiful ones who are scarred or gone have made way for others who are also beautiful.
The view changes, but there is always beauty. There will be days when I rage like a forest fire that it is so, and that it sometimes hurts so badly. On other days, I will be warmed to know that every hurt, joy, higher view, lesson learned, scar and death has potential to nourish something or someone who comes after, and perhaps help them to grow stronger, taller, or more supple. Beautiful.