Chapter 1: The Forest Fire's Impact

I find myself perched on a mountain, with my heart echoing the stillness of the lake below, while flames engulf the surrounding peaks. A vivid orange glow dances ahead of me, while a cloud of ash drifts in the cool northeastern breeze. These mountains, so dear to my heart, are now marred by fire. From a distance, they appear as unsightly scars, but up close, they resonate with my own trembling breath. I inhale deeply, and the air feels thick.

Isn't it astonishing how quickly the essence of a place can shift? In an instant, everything appears altered, evoking a feeling akin to being thrown from a ship into turbulent waters filled with starlight against a gray horizon, where one seeks direction amid chaos.

Writing has never been a guiding light in my grasp, illuminating my path forward. Instead, it resembles a distant beacon, akin to the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock, offering a sense of purpose even from afar. This light belongs to no one; it is a shared source of inspiration for countless individuals across time and space. Though we may be strangers, if we persistently move ahead, we are bound to connect.

I don't rely on academics to validate my intrinsic understanding; they can often seem like self-important gatekeepers. Much like Jesus, my purpose is not to dissect art, but to live it.

So when I refer to writing as a distant beacon amidst the darkness, I see it as a representation of hope — a symbol illuminating our paths, while I am merely an angle reflecting its light.

I await the critic whose perspective matters, the one who emerges from the fray, marked by effort and passion. The individual moved by my words embodies the art of influencing others, creating a cosmic intersection of experiences. One does not debate the beauty of blooming flowers or dismiss the sight of trees budding anew. The sight of an elderly man at a war memorial, a woman grieving at a grave, or a child marveling at birds in formation requires no further explanation.

The first time I returned to Oregon, I was struck by the absence of the trees. The mountains appeared flattened, and vibrant colors were replaced by shades of gray. The connections I once felt to others had vanished, leaving only remnants of what used to be. My initial return to Oregon felt like visiting a place that had been irrevocably altered.

I watched as my Oregon mountains blazed like the wick of a kerosene lamp, enveloped in smoke and sorrow. A physical space transformed in an instant. Sometimes emotions struggle to express themselves; they emerge in unexpected ways. My past experiences feel like they have been erased, leaving only faint impressions behind.

As I gaze over the mountain ranges, the world seems to dissolve. I feel like a stranger in a once-familiar land. Memories cascade like meteor showers, evoking a sense of nostalgia for a world that once made sense. Now, it feels as if I am in orbit, searching for a new reality, questioning whether what I once knew was ever truly real. When the flames finally subside, what remains may signal a new beginning.

I am not someone with all the answers. My clothes are worn, my pockets are empty, and I find solace in the comfort of my hands resting there. Life feels surreal, like a painting, as I contemplate the pain of broken relationships and physical limitations. I reflect on how I may not be so different from the fire itself; if the winds shifted, I too could ignite into flames, consuming everything in my path.

Returning here brings a wave of sadness, as I feel like remnants of a history turned to ash. There’s no space for my past to coexist with me; when you part from people and places, they fade away. New acquaintances seem indifferent to your history. So, I sit atop the mountain, alone, mourning the loss of those I once knew and the life I once lived.

In this solitude, I confront the truth: I have always been alone. Alone in Oregon. Alone in relationships. Alone in confinement. Yet, in this realization, I find solace, knowing that even as I scorch the mountain, I also have the power to plant new life.

Hey, I'm Roman. I'm currently crafting my debut novel, 20XX, which delves into the realm of magical realism. I also document my writing journey through vlogs on Substack.

Witness the heroic efforts to save cattle from the devastation of a forest fire.

Chapter 2: Nature's Resilience

Nature has an incredible capacity to heal and regenerate, even after catastrophic fires. This phenomenon is beautifully illustrated in the following video.

Explore how Yellowstone's ecosystem recovers after devastating fires, showcasing nature's remarkable resilience.