Orange sky situation

A few years ago during yet another series of horrific wildfires in California, the skies where I live turned orange for days.

We had experienced hazy smoke grey skies before. Had smelled the telltale tinge of burning wood. It had happened when we lived in Alaska, where we'd once had to evacuate our cabin. It had happened multiple times since we moved to California. It happens almost every year.

But 2020 was the first time we'd experienced orange skies. It was a deeply unsettling experience. A tangible wrongness. A catalyst for deeply visceral instincts to act in the face of a threat.

We knew those skies meant danger.

We knew those skies meant that people were suffering.

We knew those skies meant entire communities were being threatened or destroyed.

We knew those skies meant people were struggling to breathe.

And yet, we were still doing normal life things. My husband was still going to work everyday. I was still working remotely every day. Though I ended up apologizing repeatedly in chats for how distracted I was.

People were doing everything they could to ameliorate the damage, yet everyone was watching the weather forecast, waiting for the change in the winds, the chance of precipitation that would end the devastation.

There is a kind of moral injury that occurs when we are in positions of having to continue on as if everything is fine even though things are irrefutably not fine.

It's sunny, blue skies and cool outside as I write this. The sunlight is dappled on the tree trunks of the redwoods I can see from my patio. Traffic is at a normal pace for a Friday. The juncos in the hanging basket of yet-to-bloom fuchsia are rapidly in and out of their nest preparing for this year's chicks. My husband is at work hoping they'll have a short day. I was sending emails this morning and now I'm writing this.

Yet, we know there is danger.

Yet, we know people are suffering.

Yet, we know entire communities are being threatened.

Yet, we know people are struggling to breathe.

The orange skies are intellectual now but no less unsettling. No less tangibly wrong. No less catalyzing. And there is no closing our eyes to stop seeing it.

People are doing as much as they can to ameliorate the damage. But full relief will not come from naturally occurring events. We have to make the winds change. We have to bring the rain.