Destruction Along the Blue Ridge

Single Point Focus in the Midst of Chaos

A couple of weeks ago, we went up to the Blue Ridge Parkway near the Folk Art Center. It had just re-opened to the public, although the Parkway beyond the Folk Art Center was still closed due to all the damage. We walked through the woods in the area near the Folk Art Center and then continued a little further alongthe road, since we lost the trail due to all the downed trees. When we got to this one section, I suddenly stopped. My eye caught the peak in the distance and my first reaction was that single point focus would be critical in moving past the trauma we have all suffered. Seven years ago, my father was dying, I was in the middle of a divorce, and I was about to move to North Carolina after having incurred some property damage from excessive rain in Florida. I had purchased a photograph of a canoe let loose to drift in the middle of a lake in Canada. One end of the canoe was in perfect focus and I used to stare at that photograph and meditate every day. Single point focus allowed me to veer away from anxiety and stress in my life and sit in the knowledge that I was still present. When I saw this peak beyond all the chaos, I realized that the mountains will endure and that this destruction was temporary.

The level of destruction here is still unfathomable more than two months after the remnants of Hurricane Helene slammed Western North Carolina. It is heartbreaking to see all the downed trees, and the current estimate is that more than 40 percent of the trees in our forests have been lost. Yet, there are still signs of life and I frequently have to remind myself that so I don’t give up hope. As I was walking along, I saw some lichen poking through the leaves and when I swept them away I saw the grouping on the left. The way the round ball of lichen sat on top of the oval of moss below it reminded me of a body and made me feel a bit more optimistic for the future. Nearby, I came across all the life forms in the image on the right. Lichen and moss are pioneer species. They are hardy and strong and can break down rock. Additionally, when they die, they enrich the soil so new life can emerge.

Clouds Blowing in Over a Pile of Downed Trees

The amount of downed trees along the Parkway was truly astonishing and alarming. When we saw scenes like this on both sides of the road, we realized it will take years or decades before signs of the damage are no longer visible.

Survivors

But then in the midst of all the carnage, I came across this group of trees that were standing tall. They were clearly survivors. Why they were spared, I don’t know. Perhaps their roots were stronger, or the wind hit them at a different angle, or some of the water had drained from the soil allowing them to remain in place. Whatever the cause, I cheered for them and in cheering for them I cheered for everyone in my community who has come together to help each other get through this. We too will endure, at least those of us who were not swept away by the floodwaters. It will take time to heal, but I have faith we can since tragedies are great for teaching people about the importance of community.

Native Grasses Growing in the Midst of Fallen Trees

Last year I participated in a practicum with Trebbe Johnson, the author of Radical Joy for Hard Times. Trebbe stressed the importance of not turning away from wounded places, and in the last few months I have felt so grateful that I have already had practice in doing this. It filled me with joy, or at least hope, when I saw these grasses growing in the midst of all the fallen trees. Touches of beauty are so gratifying when faced with so much devastation. I cannot abandon these places. I have to bear witness and share what I see, so that the repercussions of how we live are visible. Climate change is not a hoax. The Earth is suffering, but at the same time lifeforms do not abandon their will to live.

I noticed that snapped branches still exhibited graceful lines and gestures, and I could image them inverted and forming beautiful tree canopies. I was moved when I saw a tree with burls all up and down its trunk still standing, when others nearby had snapped or been cut down. Each burl is a sign of the tree surviving some disease or stress, and yet this tree still managed to endure what is now being referred to as a geological event because it was so severe and rare. It made me think that we should not view those who have health issues as inferior or weak, but rather we should see them as people with a history of experiences. (The United States is the only country that talks about pre-existing conditions. In the rest of the world people talk about medical histories…)

It is fascinating to see how different trees responded to the stress. The one on the left was near the Folk Art Center and the trunk managed to bend and form an arc under the weight of trees that knocked it over. While on the right, the trunk broke under the stress and lodge itself in the middle of a nearby stump. Neither is right or wrong, trees and people respond the way they do because of their histories, both medical and psychological, and also because of their age and how they handle loss and attachment.

The downed tree on the left is a big Chestnut that was on the nature walk near the Folk Art Center. Just a little further along the trail, we came to all the downed trees on the right and we couldn’t figure out where the path went next. We made it to the road and continued on our way. Sometimes, when we get too deeply into chaos, trauma, or stress, it is important to step back a bit and try and regain some sort of perspective.

When we step back, we can begin to see a little order in the chaos and signs of endurance and hope. The forests around here, though they have been damaged extensively, are not giving up. WNC Strong applies to them too. When volunteers are allowed out on the trails, we plan to help. And as always, I open to the lessons of the forest.

Four Leave Clover in the Midst of Fallen Leaves and Pine Needles

When we were almost back to our car, nature gave us a sign. First, I saw lots of clover poking through the leaves and that lifted my spirits. Dave was certain he could find me a four-leafed clover and he did not give up. His search was fruitful. If we look for hopeful signs, even in the darkest times, we will find them. They won’t always be four-leaf clovers, but there will be something that we can be thankful for and which will inspire us to keep going and doing the work we came here to do whatever that is for each of us.