reflections
June 24th, 2013 EPIC TODAY

So, my horoscope today says, “you have something to say.”
When don’t I have something to say? Kirk lovingly jokes that my tombstone will read:
Here lies Karina. Boy, she had a LOT to say.
I can’t help it that I was born under a Taurus moon and it seems I was destined to be a natural born leader whether people listen to me or not.
As the wildfire raged in Black Forest and now in Walsenburg, I experienced an odd sense of dread and loss. So many people we know live in Black Forest! In Walsenburg the photos of the ranchers trailing their cattle on horseback to save them from the fire brought back the fearful memories I have as a kid being evacuated from the threat of fire. We first packed up our neighbors (they lived in a tent and summer camped to tend their cattle) and then started with our own items. The southern evacuation border of the Black Forest fire was where Kirk and I lived some years ago.
A couple of days ago my facebook post read, “Today was epic!” Not an exaggeration. It was. Compared to the prior week when I thought I might die. Literally. A trip to the emergency room for a hormone imbalance brought on by fatigue and dehydration brought about a sudden shift in my life that for once sidelined me so hard (like being body checked by a professional linebacker) I was helpless to respond to it except sleep. And try not to pass out repeatedly from blood loss. Plainly…REST was in order. That was the doctor’s orders
Truthfully, that was the ONLY thing I could do!
I am not one for REST. I like my active lifestyle. Stubbornly so. Enough so that the Universe found it within its powers to snap me up short, prove everyone that ever said I work too hard right and give them a platform to lecture to me with nodding and head-bobbing that FINALLY I might listen.
It was humbling. And all at once enlightening! Perhaps blood loss works like that. Passing out felt a lot like the right of passage some cultures adopt. You know the one where they hang by their skin until passing out because it brings about a burst of euphoric epiphany that influences the rest of their lives? Yes, it was a lot like that.
Like these damn, horrible and terrifying wildfires.
I’ve been evacuated due to wildfires several times as a kid. Once I was with my Dad at the local hardware store when the call came. I was enjoying the rare treat to spending time with my Father who throughout his life has been twice as busy as me and now lectures me about the price of too much ambition. We raced home and the fire raged ahead of us. My Dad pushed his little pick-up past 80 mph and we couldn’t beat the fire. It raced over the wheat field and up into the trees ahead of us and roared toward our family home. My Father prayed out load and took time to rebuke the fire. It narrowly missed our family homestead. I still remember the sour taste of fear of watching my Dad in anxious fear the fire would not stop but engulf our home and the rest of the family who were at home. Twice! That’s how many times as a kid we we faced evacuation. The second time us kids were at home. But my Dad had learned from the first fire, the one he stood helpless to stop except in renouncing it spiritually. The second time we kids fought the fire. I ran the backhoe and my brothers the Caterpillar plows to push fire line. We stopped only when my oldest brother was forced to jump from his to avoid being engulfed. That Cat burned in the fire and the memory of my brother pushing the line until it was the very last, almost too late moment is still burned into my memory. I know the horrors. Several years ago I received the phone call our family homestead had finally succumbed the threat of wildfire and had burned to the ground.
I raced from Colorado to Montana not knowing if it was true. My Dad has refused to leave our homestead. He had last been seen fighting fire on the mountain that bordered public land and our land. I knew he would never leave. I remembered how he had cried watching the local lumber company cut trees from the land bordering ours. His was a tender love of his native home and place of his youth. He would give his life to secure it. I knew it.
The phone lines had been burned, the power blown so there was no way to know except to travel back to the home of my youth, which I did, the speedometer of the car rarely leaving 90. I knew if I were pulled over that I could explain to the officer my hurry. It didn’t matter if he understood or not. I needed to be home in the place where so much of my intuition and well-being had been fostered.
My heroic father with all his mechanical power (and I mean he used every one of them) had simultaneously and all at once backhoed, trenched and bulldozed an impenetrable fire zone around our families house that if you didn’t know 100 yards behind the wood encrusted house, an out of control wildfire had raged. He saved our families home and several of those around ours with his bravery.
I grew up knowing how to run the dozer, back-hoe, water truck, dump truck, trucks, cars…anything…to be prepared in case of wildfire. Because my Dad loved us enough to teach us how to survive, solve problems and bravely face adversity. I am praying for the peace and the intuition of those now threatened by these fires to run long before its necessary if they choose and to fight well if they don’t. That is the only way to be prepared, if there is such a thing in this terrible unpreventable tragedy.
Such things bring about recognition of things that before may go unrecognized. Like the full curl ram and ewes Kirk and I saw as we traveled across Colorado not long ago.
REST is for the birds. I am still fighting a racing heart and shortness of breath (very foreign to me) but drive and work we must. And then the sheep.
I could hardly ignore the fox from the night before. Or the owl. But Big Horn Sheep?
They are the symbolism of change, making dreams come true and vision.
As mean as Mother Nature is. She is also, at the same time, gracious, tender and direct.
Two blown tires and a few other delays, (another forced rest which turned out to be stupendously productive!) since Kirk and I RARELY if EVER anymore have uninterrupted time to do paperwork and the necessary steps in pursuit of the DREAM, stops and starts in our day, after sleeping haphazardly crumpled up on the rear bench seat of the truck…Kirk in front (because he is the ONLY person on Earth I know that can sleep with a seat belt stabbing him in the kidneys) and me on the rear bench, tossing and turning because unlike Kirk I am like the Princess and the pea. No amount of cushion can erase that damn pea from beneath, I was invigorated, thankful, amazed, brought to tears by the joy in our lives, the wonder and the amazing events that have transpired of late. I am purposely being cryptic. The situation warrants it and not even wild horses will drag it out of me…just suffice it to say, I am exhilarated and all at once satisfied about the trajectory of things. How odd to think that on the eve of a health wakeup call that most would allow to sideline them that I find myself….SPEECHLESS with wonder?!
That bloodletting event, the one that I welcomed, to purge and detoxify this body and ready it for something new. Tests had already confirmed I had nothing to worry about save bleeding to death, easily controlled by the herbs I fiercely ripped from my Naturopath’s hands after the ones from the Emergency Room had worn off brought me out of my fanciful stupor I am invincible. I wasn’t afraid. I’ve almost died a thousand times. But not epic today.

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