Fire as Fuel for Growth

Abstract

Biking past the bandaid scar of the Pipeline Fire in Flagstaff, Arizona, feelings of devastation welled up in my stomach. Seeing the view of a beautiful place being ravaged by the a jagged, mutated human fingerprint was not the view I was hoping for on my Saturday mountain bike ride. I sadly realized that every time I set my foot on my bike pedal (which is a lot), there seems to be another story of the effects of climate change eating away at our planet. 

With the adrenaline coursing inspiration through my veins, I realized another way to look at a fire is an opportunity for growth. Even though climate action lately hasn't been the strong helicopter we've all been waiting for to shower the world with its saving water (although the Inflation Reduction Act was a storm in the right direction), that doesn't mean we need to fall into despair. I think at COP27 this November, we can use the mistakes of the past as fuel for change in the present moment. 

Full story

As my bike tires left the beating of the rocky trail and rolled onto the smooth sidewalk, the feeling of freedom from the wind whipping across my cheeks suddenly constricted in my chest. 

Smoke was billowing in a mushroom cloud, covering the view of the mountains that I was learning to love. 

The Pipeline Fire in Flagstaff, Arizona, ignited only a week after I'd moved my life here. For the next few weeks, the smoke was always the backdrop. A smoldering presence to remind all of us living below the towering mountains of the strength tucked away inside nature - humans included. 

Now, 2 months later, I'm on my bike again. (No surprise there.) The trail is situated on the side of a mountain, cut horizontally into a slope reaching up to the sky and tumbling down into the valley filled with trees. 

I dare to throw a glance off the trail to the stretch of mountains laid out in perfect view. My mouth drops open and I have to skid to a halt to stop myself from cartwheeling off the trail. 

In the footsteps of the Pipeline Fire, the smoke is now gone. All that's left is a orange bandaid of charred trees, still reaching their trunks high into the sky, like if they try hard enough, they'll start growing again. To me, the burn scar almost looks to be still burning. 

I think about my life. How when I moved here to Flagstaff, it was almost like everything in the past was burned to the ground. My friends, supportive professors, family - all back in the Midwest. I knew nobody here, had never been to the southwest, and was attempting grad school - a challenge that made my insides churn with nervousness. 

Yes, this fire in my life has been slightly devastating. I feel lonely, abandoned, and overwhelmed sometimes. But on the other hand, I'm learning more about myself and the world through this process - I've been learning the meaning of self-confidence, experiencing peace in nature, and realizing that God has given me the strength to keep going.

But my life is just one seed growing in this forest of a world. 

Climate change has already begun to set fire to our world. Rising sea levels, increased drought frequency, more severe storms. 

But I believe from this initial devastation, there can be new growth. Even though COP26 was somewhat disappointing to many people around the world, COP27 is a chance to take what was learned and shoot up stronger. 

I'm excited to be a part of this growth. 

And not just me, but people from around the world, because a new forest is never comprised of a single tree.