JoAnn Saccato

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8/22/2015

A Life Well Lived: A Case for Mindfulness (Part 1)

21 Comments

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Picture
The cabin where I lived for 10+ years with Shyla burned to the ground in the notorious #RockyFire in Northern California. The fire has consumed over 70,000 acres of wild land and another fire, #JerusalemFire, is adjacent to it, multiplying in size by the minute.

When I saw on the perimeter map of the Rocky Fire that the old cabin may have burned down, and when Walter's family told me they had been notified by the Sheriff's department that they had lost three structures, I still had hopes in my mind that it somehow survived. It was tucked up the hill away from the main structures on the property, on the crest of a knoll in the oak woodlands. And though it was surrounded by small oaks that provided much needed shade in the dry hot summers, I thought there may be enough distance from the swath of chaparral behind it and the other oaks in the area to render it safe.

I drove out the first day they reopened State Hwy 20 only to find that the road to the property was still barricaded off. My thirst to know was strong, and, even though smoke was in the area, I parked the car...
'...behind some fire trucks at the bottom of the road. Not sure if there were firefighters around, I acted nonchalantly getting my backpack ready. I filled it with a gallon of water and a bag of bird seed for the displaced critters that may be returning to their homes. I also brought Tibetan prayer flags and other altar accoutrements to rejuvenate the sacredness of the land, drinking water for myself and some of Shyla's hair and ashes--she's already scattered around the land in various places. It's been almost 3 years since I lived there, though only a few months since I last visited.

No one seemed to be around so I quickly put on my hikers and darted up the steep slope of the dirt road to get out of sight of any passersby. It's about a kilometer to the homes on the road, mostly uphill, rocky terrain with plenty of washouts and dips. I didn't see much fire damage for the first half of the trek, which kept my hopes up. As well, I had heard from my friend and neighbor, Layna Joy, who had lost everything on her parcel, that our other neighbor's dwelling was spared. Fire can be very selective in a sometimes bizarre kind of way. So, still hopeful that the cabin somehow miraculously survived, I cllimbed.

Memories trickled in as I turned each corner and noticed particular trees, ruts, and views. I drove this road for 10+ years and hiked it many times, whether diverting water flow during the rainy season or exploring the surrounding hills.

When the view of Layna's acreage surfaced, only then could I comprehend the intensity of the fire. What was once speckled with vibrant small outbuildings, trailers, oak trees, gardens and people was suddenly barren, stark, flattened and lifeless. Only spiny skeletons of Manzanita and other brush, reminiscent of a black and white film, remained. (Layna friends have started a GoFundMe site for Raven's Haven)

At the same time I could see the perfectly brown, bare wood structure and green trees of her neighbor's place standing tall against the horizon. The stark contrast and understood nature of fire was jaw-dropping in that moment. As I crested the hill to the parking lot, I saw a view of the land and sky I never did before, because both of the two-story structures at Walter's homestead were gone, leaving a bareness that was at once refreshing to the eye and extremely sad. Everything was flattened. And there were more tree skeletons and vehicle skeletons in the view. 

Piles of reclaimed wood that Walter had purposefully accumulated over a 40 year period had disappeared. Poof. The same wood pile that we pulled from to finish the cabin, build furniture and bridges, gone. The memories started flooding.

So many scenes of Walter living his life. His wash tubs used for laundry were still in tact. The exercise equipment he spent his mornings using, still distinguishable, the 30-gallon plastic water containers, now melted to the point where the water inside stopped the burning, lay open, the water covered with a film of melted plastic and soot.

Memories of what his home looked like were triggered by new pieces of "art" that once were viable practical objects--the wood stove that I so carefully tended in the winters when he was ill, the Wedgewood cooking stove/oven, where Walter made hands-down the best pancakes with overripe pears and dripping with maple syrup, the heavy duty sink that would be piled high with dishes by the end of the week, whose cleaning would become a Saturday meditation to music and fresh air. This was the place where I learned how to live. From a man who truly knew how to live life well. Who lived more fully in the moment than anyone I've known. Who taught me this not through discourse, but by example, day after day after day.

Just feet away, where the zip line for the kids and grandkids once perched, oak trees were still green, and though burnt around and up them a ways, I knew they would survive. I've learned over the years that life is resilient. Resilient beyond anything I could have ever imagined. What was left of the inanimate objects at Walter's place will also take on a new life--maybe an art piece, maybe a remembrance piece for the family, or maybe scooped up by a Scrap Metal Joe, melted and reformed shiny new for some important or wonderful purpose.

I scattered bird seed around and continued on up the path toward the cabin, still in hope it remained. That its will to survive and provide respite for Walter's family was stronger than the fire. A fallen Manzanita tree barricaded the path just at the point where I had one time taken an unintentional fall, head first, over a wheelbarrow full of clean clothes, water, books and food. The resultant black eye and concussion landed me on Jim's couch for a week. Now, with just a small backpack full of water, I skirted around the fallen tree to find the bridge gone, with the gallon of paint that rested for years waiting for me to cover the bridge now deformed from the heat--shorter, but still distinguishable. What difference now would it had made had I painted it then?

The beginnings of the Aha! moment formed in my mind through a series of remembrances and questions.The concern when someone was logging acres and acres (and acres!) of oak trees for firewood--what did that matter now, when so many had been destroyed? The meticulousness of my pruning the shrubs along the path to the cabin, ensuring the least amount of damage, as they were here first. What was that for when now they were burnt to a crisp or just piles of ash?

(Continued)

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21 Comments
Beth Katherine Kaiman
8/13/2015 01:53:15 pm

Gosh golly you sure know how to tell a story ... when is the 2nd half coming? Beautiful portrayal of the imagery.

Reply
Roberta
8/13/2015 02:44:47 pm

Dear joanne,
Please share the second installment. As I read your story I am filled with hope, I taste the smoke, feel the joy and lose you are experiencing. This event will change many lives and the landscape of our county. Prayers to all.
Roberta

Reply
Beth Katherine Kaiman
8/17/2015 10:09:22 pm

Joanne my experience echos the pain that others are suffering now. The agony of loosing everything eventually is replaced with a sense of such Zen-like awareness of freedom. 3 or so days after the fire which destroyed my home/business a sense of relief washed through me as I thought :'damn, I don't have to pack all that stuff up and move'. Aldous Huxley was more eloquent when he spoke of the lifting of the burden of loosing possession to fire. Bottom line there is nothing you can do about it but grieve and then move onto the next lesson.

Reply
Lorna
8/13/2015 02:56:26 pm

JoAnn, So touching.. immediate... well written. Your love shines thru.

Reply
Birgit Wolz
8/13/2015 03:03:12 pm

Dear JoAnn,

Your story is so well-witted and moving!

It's also great to see a picture of your cabin how it looked when you lived there. I can really see you in it.

Love,
Birgit

Reply
Taira link
8/13/2015 05:14:54 pm

JoAnn, I wrote this once before, and it disappeared before my eyes, and for a moment understood your disbelief at seeing the space where trees once shaded your days. I am deeply touched by your life, your love and your writing, and thank you for sharing such a deeply personal and truly profound moment. You were so brave to go there, and your tenderness in bringing seed for the birds was a sacred thought. As the experience processes, I'm sure you will recognize a new emerging paradigm that you will live with the courage, faith, and fullness of understanding that you lived in your cabin. My heart is with you. Taira

Reply
Brother Paul
8/13/2015 06:06:30 pm

My dear sister your writing moves me. My heart is low also but the slate wipes clean for a new picture to apear. It's great that you have the memories to pass and recall that special place and that wonderful man. Was his house empty of all his things... pai tings ect.?
Loss is so sad but sets forth the new chapter.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
All my love and light to you and the family.

Reply
Barbara Christwitz
8/13/2015 11:58:54 pm

Thanks JoAnn for expressing yourself in writing. You brought me there with you. You so beautifully reminded me, the reader to appreciate this present moment since all is temporal except for the love which we all share. Love and memories last for eternity. With gratitude for you and all you hold dear, Barbara

Reply
Terre
8/14/2015 01:21:34 pm

Oh, sadness. I wondered about your cabin and if the Walter I recently met was the same Walter that held space for you and your cabin. Three years since you lived there? Time passes and restores. I hope this will be the case there - and all of the burnt parts of Lake County.

Reply
lorindra
8/14/2015 03:29:39 pm

looking forward to reading/hearing the rest of the story i feel walter so strongly

Reply
Joy Byrd
8/14/2015 03:56:13 pm

JoAnn, your descriptions allowed me to feel as if I were there with you sharing every nostalgic moment. Very well done. Namaste.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 01:53:04 pm

Thanks Beth. Of course, you've lived a much harsher loss with the loss of your home a few years back. This is just a slight glimpse of your devastation!

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 01:54:09 pm

Thanks Roberta. It's bubbling up.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 01:54:33 pm

Thanks Lorna Sue.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 01:55:17 pm

Thank you Birgit. It was such a lovely home.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 01:56:22 pm

Thank you Taira. It was a profound time that lends itself to a deeply meaningful life.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 01:59:12 pm

Thanks Paul. I don't know what remained in Walter's house as I'd only been on the property a few times sine I moved about three years ago. I know the cabin was in use by the family regularly for special events and get aways.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 02:00:14 pm

Thank you Barbara. Yes, the lesson is that--love, love, love.

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 02:02:47 pm

Yes time will restore. The Walter that owned the property passed a few years before I left, solar likely not the one you refer to, unless...well, you get the idea. 😘

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 02:03:27 pm

Me too lorindra! 💜💕

Reply
JoAnn Saccato
8/17/2015 02:03:52 pm

Thank you Joy.

Reply



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