Amid the Burning Ashes
How To Find Solace and Wisdom in Tragedy
The recent fires in Los Angeles have left a scar across the landscape—both physical and emotional. Thousands of acres consumed, countless homes destroyed, lives uprooted, and dreams shattered.
Tragedies like these serve as profound reminders of life’s fragility, the impermanence of all things, and the sobering truth that nature, in its raw and untamed form, answers to no one. Yet amid such devastation, there lies an opportunity to reground, rebuild, and rediscover the essence of who we are.
The I Ching, the ancient Chinese Book of Changes, offers profound wisdom for navigating such moments of upheaval. Hexagram 23, Po (Splitting Apart), comes to mind. This hexagram depicts a moment when external forces dismantle the structures we rely on, leaving us exposed and vulnerable.
It advises us to avoid resistance and instead embrace stillness, humility, and patience. Much like a forest fire clears the way for new growth, splitting apart invites us to shed the unnecessary, to trust that destruction is often a necessary precursor to renewal.
In moments like these, I find myself turning inward. As I watched the news and saw images of flames licking at the skies of Los Angeles, a deep ache settled within me. Memories of past tragedies resurfaced—personal losses, professional failures, and the collective grief of a world in turmoil.
Yet, rather than succumbing to despair, I sought solace in small, grounding rituals: meditation and journaling, practicing qigong in silence, and sitting with the discomfort rather than fleeing from it.
The I Ching reminds us that change is the only constant. Tragedies, as painful as they are, remind us of this truth in the most visceral ways.
Hexagram 40, Hsieh (Deliverance), offers a pathway forward. It speaks of liberation from difficulty, not through force but through clarity and decisive action.
Deliverance comes when we release the anger, guilt, and blame that often accompany tragedy. The fires cannot be undone, but we can choose to respond with compassion—for ourselves, for the earth, and for those most affected.
I think back to a profound lesson I learned during a personal tragedy years ago. After the loss of a dear friend, I found myself walking aimlessly in a park, my chest heavy with grief. As I sat on a bench, a soft breeze rustled the leaves above me.
It was at that moment that I realized the world would continue, with or without me. The birds still sang, the sun still rose, and the wind still moved through the trees. That realization was both humbling and freeing. It reminded me that, while I could not control external events, I could control how I chose to meet them.
The fires in L.A. challenge us to find that same balance. How do we grieve the losses while honoring the resilience of the human spirit? How do we mourn what has burned while planting seeds for what will grow?
Regrounding, for me, begins with breath. I often return to the simple act of inhaling and exhaling, a reminder that I am alive, even in the face of chaos. I also return to the earth—literally.
Walking barefoot on grass or sitting beneath a tree helps me reconnect with the stability that nature offers, even when it feels volatile.
Finally, I find solace in community. In times of great tragedy, we are reminded of our interconnectedness. Just as a fire knows no boundaries, neither does the spirit of generosity.
Stories of neighbors helping neighbors, strangers opening their homes, and communities rallying to rebuild offer a glimpse of hope amid despair. They show us that, while the fire destroys, it also forges bonds that are unbreakable.
As we look ahead, let us heed the lessons of the I Ching. Let us accept the impermanence of all things while striving to live with intention and presence.
Let us honor what has been lost while building anew, grounded in compassion and wisdom. And let us remember that, even amid the ashes, there is always the possibility of renewal. For in every ending, the Tao promises a new beginning.
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Diamond Michael Scott — aka The Chocolate Taoist
thank you for this. I have been grieving so much for the city that I found healing and growth in. I feel like I became a human in my 12 years in LA, and I have been consumed by images on the destruction, and overwhelmed by the kindness and human response of people coming out to help their neighbors.
I am going to remember to return to breath.
Thank you, Diamond. We cannot control external events, but we can control how we react to them. For me it’s a time for prayer, and stillness. 🙏🏽