Wildfires
Not Seeing the Forest or the Trees: A Reflection on Wildfires, Spirit, and Transformation
Not Seeing the Forest or the Trees
At the time I created this painting, historic wildfires in California were raging across the state—and, in parallel, my own situationship was seemingly also burning down. I didn’t set out to paint the wildfires specifically; instead, I allowed what wanted to emerge to reveal itself.
Before beginning, I meditated and played my crystal practitioner’s singing bowl. I intentionally charged the blank canvas with vibration and called in my guides for support. I intuitively selected the colors and began to paint, continuing to listen, sense, feel, and flow.
The piece is titled Not Seeing the Forest or the Trees—a reflection on how perspectives can fail to recognize value both in the big picture and in the smallest details. This painting represents that duality: the macro and the micro. The taking for granted of forests as a whole, and simultaneously not recognizing the irreplaceable worth of each tree, plant, and creature within, mirrored what was happening in my relationship at the time.
One of my spirit animals is prominent here: the great, formidable grizzly bear—enraged. This being is deeply connected to my heart space and is a fierce protector. As with all of my paintings, imagery appears without a predetermined plan. I never decided what should be there—the bear simply emerged. Many other animals, figures, and faces have come into focus over the course of time, and some are still hidden, waiting to reveal themselves in the appropriate future.
For example, a large horse head and a chicken appeared to me months after I had written this post—images so significant and only to be noticed with a “zoomed out” perspective. Distance from the painting, distance from a situation, looking with fresh eyes, and incorporating life experiences and insights gained from introspection—all seem to bring about a dance in perception with the painting. This experience also served as a reminder of the ongoing process of shifting perception.
The fire and roaring bear symbolize not only my personal anger, but also a collective outcry—the grief and frustration surrounding the destruction of our forests, and wildfires caused by arson or manipulated weather. At the same time, everything in my relationship was also being set ablaze and reduced to ashes. In that way, I too was dealing with an “ars-onist”—and a deeply loved arse, at that.
Recovery and regrowth are possible, however, though much has been lost. The resilience of what lies beneath can pave the way for renewal and the budding of what was dormant. That which was shielded from the flames and held in reserve can regenerate life anew, although the composition differs significantly from what existed before.
Even after fire, the roots remember.
