The root or the fruit

What is the meaningful approach to living?

A year after the Glass Fire torched Bothe Napa Valley State Park, I returned. Though patches of green had already reappeared and little yellow flowers poked through tangles of branches, I had to actively focus on the regrowth rather than the scarred trees. Now two years since that devastating fire, I came back. While the fire’s impact cannot be ignored—the burn scars on Douglas firs, bark stripped off madrone and oaks, some trees completely incinerated—now the green was more prominent than the scars.

Even though many claimed 2022 was a mellow wildfire year in the American West, 2022 has still burned many of us.

Covid, death, illness, transitions, rejection, loss of rights, environmental destruction, wars, and an intense White Lotus season fried our nervous systems. Not sure about you, I was still trying to decompress from the collective traumas of 2020 and 2021 when 2022 made me its bitch.

In addition to trying to figure out how to live in what’s increasingly feeling like the apocalypse, I’ve been in a deep state of reckoning with the role of travel in my life. Most of you know, travel has been my identity since I was a teenager. When I needed to heal, escape, grow, I simply got on a plane and wandered toward inspiration. Because I knew this about myself, I became a travel writer.

But as most of you also know, I have been unsure of how to (or if I can) continue foreign travel knowing all I do about the negative impact of tourism on the Earth. During the pandemic, I rekindled my affection for walking in my community. I waxed poetic about finding wonder in the nearby by planting gardens at home and spending time in nature. Yet I continued to grapple with how to find the true sense of awe brought on by being a foreigner in another land.

As I debated the extent of my personal responsibility to the planet this summer (while also complaining nonstop about not being able to get on a plane) the universe sent a metaphorical wildfire ripping through my life, a fire that grounded every flight I might have taken, and halted me in my tracks.

When everything’s on fire and there’s nowhere to flee, what do you do? Some animals root underground; others run. They don’t try to protect their homes or property like we might. Many forest animals lead their families from harm, and when the fires stop smoldering, they return, knowing the leaves and shoots that grow anew taste sweeter, more nutritious, and soon will be more abundant.

A couple lessons from smart people

But I was not a forest animal. I longed for the road to sweep me away, or at least teach me how to find joy in troubled moments. I longed to be outside of my body, my mind, my heart. On a walk, my wise friend Charlie, reminded me of the famous Winston Churchill quote, “Never let a good crisis go to waste.”

Was I wasting this symphony of personal and global crisis? Stuck in a story I didn’t like, I noticed that I’d been populating my days with more busy-ness this whole year, grasping for tiny reachable fruits everywhere—more plans, more dinners to cook, more classes to teach, more events to host. What I needed was to take some space to see what the wildfire had cleared, or what rubble remained that needed to be cleared away, or even what shoots had appeared to nourish me.

Settling on a slow journey, I drove a couple hours east to Palm Desert’s new Sensei Porcupine Creek Resort to report on a wellness story. I was meant to be writing about the grounds and the fab Nobu restaurant onsite, the decadent gua sha and desert poultice spa treatments. But what stuck out about my experience at Larry Ellison’s gorgeous desert property was when Tegan, the resort’s mindset guide, reminded me that when life’s wildfires scorched us, we have opportunity. Once all is cleared away, what remains that offers true value or purpose? We can think of ourselves like trees and find meaning in actions that nourish our roots, rather than simply the fruits that feed everyone else.

Finding our root value is not easy. But Tegan was onto something. Could we find value or meaning in the challenges of our lives? Maybe I didn’t have to get on a plane to find true meaning. I just needed some space, some time, some quiet to locate that sense of awe. That didn’t mean I was about to completely give up airline travel, but maybe I didn’t have to rely only on foreign exploration to transform. I could find value in the nearby too.

A new year action:

Instead of dry Januarys, or workout regimes we give up in weeks, how might we invest in some true root value work in the coming year?

Shit’s hard right now. Grasping for the easy fruit doesn’t really make any of us feel better. Instead consider what life’s challenges teach us. For me, I realized that I feel better when I am finding flow, connecting, or offering something of value to all species.

Life’s wildfires don’t always have to just be simply traumatic. In the charred remains of the forest, we see the green shoots, the fields of clover, the redwood orchids. Just like in our grief, our loss, our anxiety, we find moments of joy, of peace, of spaciousness. Was there a way to not let our crises go to waste? Was there a way to find value in hard things?

What about you?

As this year comes to a close, take some time to answer these questions. What in your day to day gives you value? How does that work help address the issues that stress you out? When do you feel most alive? How might you use the action or skill that gives you value and apply it to larger issues like our climate crisis?

Maybe with some intention, we can locate the flowers in the scars.

One last note

In the spirit of the season, please know how grateful I am for your support and love. Being a writer can feel like bouncing basketballs against a wall. Your comments, emails and support offer so much value. I hope this year helps you find joy in the experience of living in this moment. And I hope that we continue to connect and share ideas and grow together.

~~Michele