Opportunity Springs Out of the Ashes Sometimes
If we focus totally on loss, that is all we will see. If we give room for possibilities, we will find those too although they might be hidden under ash and dead trees. Which kind of focus would we rather catch?
I’ve been thinking a lot about wildfires lately, partly because it’s looking like it’s the start of fire season in earnest here in the Northwest and also because it was about this time of the year when the severe fire seasons of 2020 and 2021 were approaching their peaks. Growing up, like most Americans, I was taught to be responsible with my campfires. Smokey Bear’s message about “Only You Can Prevent Wildfire,” certainly wasn’t lost on me. And I was in elementary school when the severe fires burned through Yellowstone which is still recovering now thirty years later.
But now that I’ve worked for the U.S. Forest Service for as long as I have, I’ve had to change my view on wildfire in some significant ways. Yes, fire can be very destructive. I can only imagine how heart wrenching it would be to have a home full of memories and beloved keepsakes destroyed so violently and so quickly. At the same time, I’ve learned that wildfire is vital to healthy western ecosystems. Fire is one of the major disturbances on Western landscapes that can bring new growth, enrich soils, and make room for healthy new trees and other vegetation.
It’s such a sad paradox that one of the few ways of ensuring future generations of plants and forests thrive is by clearing out the old plants and trees. As sad as it is to see places we love change in such drastic ways, there is something wondrous, hopeful, and thrilling in the way nature transforms burned landscapes.
I’ve had the privilege of walking among forests where there was severe fire behavior that nearly killed everything in its path because of the extremely high temperatures. At first all I’d be able to see would be the bare dead standing trees or the ones littering the ground. But then gradually my focus changes, almost like my eyes adjust to a different photo lens and suddenly I’ll see the brilliant green forbs—fledgling plants—and delicate seedlings burst through the ash and black soil. And I have to realize that the forest is not desolate. The stretch I walked through was just in a marvelous transition time.
So why does it still make me sad to see so many dead trees knowing like I do, that fire is a natural and crucial part of the ecosystem? One big reason I think is because our human timelines are so much shorter than that of trees or nature. It might take several decades for a burned forest to rejuvenate and that is such a brief timeline for nature but for us, that might be the rest of our lives.
The other big reason why it still makes me sad to see burned forests is because I remember what it was like before the fires, and I so loved the lush and green and inviting campgrounds, trails, rivers, and lakes that were once covered with thick growth of evergreens and undergrowth. But I don’t have as clear of a picture of what the forest might look like decades down the road. There are some lessons we can take from these perspectives.
First, when hard things happen to us and we struggle to make sense out of them, maybe it would help to take a tree’s life perspective rather than always looking at the hardships with a human eye. What might seem completely unfair, undoable, and quite impossible, given enough time can all be unraveled and become much clearer. The most complex problems we face can often be turned into advantages of understanding, wisdom, and a way to avoid future pitfalls.
Second, when unfortunate things happen to us—illness, loss, disappointment, regret—we have a choice to make. We can either dwell on where and who we were before and long for how things were before or we can look at the potential new opportunities the new path before us can bring. We’re not being Polly Anna with our rosy tinted glasses on to look for those silver linings of our current situation because only when we have that kind of an asset-framed mindset can we widen our nets enough to see and capture the new opportunities.
If we focus totally on loss, that is all we will see. If we give room for possibilities, we will find those too although they might be hidden under ash and dead trees. Which kind of focus would we rather catch?