honoring our grief, nurturing our imagination
I moved to the northeast part of Los Angeles nearly two months ago. Just as I was about to hit “publish” on my latest newsletter — in which I distill reflections from my 3,000-mile road trip from Miami to LA and announce I would be reopening my books — the Eaton wildfire started to reach the house, just a few miles away. I evacuated that night, January 7th, with my housemate/friend, pup, and neighbor.
It is a blessing to say that I am safe and have temporary shelter. Admittedly, I am feeling disoriented, having to move from place to place for the timebeing. My home is ok, but due to its proximity to the fires and the presence of highly toxic materials in the area, it is currently uninhabitable. At the time of writing this, the Eaton and Palisade fires have not been fully contained and a major public health crisis in LA is unfolding that experts are comparing to the aftermath of the Hawaii/Lahaina wildfires and 9/11.
Many in LA are in survival mode, right now. I am sitting with and processing a lot (to say the least). I am thinking about how just before I moved from South Florida, Hurricanes Helene and Milton threatened the south, and ravaged West North Carolina/Appalachia and the Big Bend and Western regions of Florida.
I am in solidarity with those who lost their homes to the fires and the displaced; first responders; those who are sick from or will become ill due to the fires; those who remain vigilant about covid/the importance of clean air and who are now advocating for respirators, air purifiers, and other personal protective equipment (PPE) in LA; West North Carolina; Lahaina; Florida; and Palestine.
There is so much to say about movement, displacement, change, land stewardship & right relationship with the earth, safety, agency, dignity, disaster preparedness/responsiveness, heartbreak, care (mutual & equitable care, preventative care, networks of care), home. I wonder much about how to honor and metabolize our grief, while nurturing our imagination — so that we may better prepare for, respond to, and thrive in the face of the climate crises we will continue to witness and experience in our lifetimes.
I will open my books again as soon as I am feeling steady (thank you for your patience). I would like to direct your attention to this LA Fires Resource List, a living document gathering fundraisers and resources for LA in one place. Please share far and wide, and if you or someone you know would like to add your fundraiser to this document, please reach out.
My dog Laszlo and I, on the move in November. Taken in the Painted Desert in Arizona in November, on our way to LA.
With fierce care,
KristenPS — a few other things I've recently read or watched that have either grounded me or helped me make informed decisions in response to the fires:
— “Tips to Ground Yourself That May or May Not Help in Crisis; Near & Far: Lessons Learned from Natural Disaster + Community Resilience” by Ani Carla
— Thoughts on climate resilience by Selin Nurgün
— Coalition for Clean Air webinar: 'The Fires: Air Quality, Public Health & What to Do Next'
— How to Fall in Love in a Time of Unnameable Disaster. From an interview with the author, Muriel Leung: “Grief and love both have such dynamic force to shape time and memory, to plunge us backwards to the past or forward to the future. This force centers death, and in doing so, is also worldbuilding.”
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