Signs of Life: Finding Hope Amidst the Fires in Los Angeles
Los Angeles is my home away from home—a magical and surreal city where I embarked on a journey in search of “more.” I've always been a seeker, yearning for something beyond the visible and tangible. This quote by Anaïs Nin feels like it could be my epitaph: “I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.”
I felt a call to head out West and finally found the courage to move across the country in 2014. What I discovered in LA is beyond words—it’s a feeling, a heart space, that I will be forever grateful for. I found pieces of myself, but I also found some of that “more” I was so desperately seeking. I found friends who became family, and I experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows I never imagined possible.
(True story: there was a long period of time when I couldn’t afford to replace a tire on my car with a hole in it. So, I bought an air pump and pumped up my tire every morning before work, praying it wouldn’t blow on my commute.)
I found moments of peace from everything I thought I needed to escape. I learned that running away didn’t make me hate myself any less when I looked in the mirror. I found what true solitude feels like and discovered gratitude for my own company. I learned to stop chasing after men who would never love me. I realized I’m braver than I ever gave myself credit for. I learned, painfully, that cancer fucking sucks, and in the wake of grief, I found a depth of meaning I never knew existed.
Most importantly, I found that no matter how far away I am from my family—Mom, Dad, Chris, and Caroline—they are my reason for getting up every morning. They are what my heart looks like.
This heart of mine aches deeply for California—for my family and friends in LA, for the communities, landscapes, pets, and wildlife facing the vast devastation of the recent fires. The City of Angels, a place bursting with life, love, and dreams, has been shaken by forces far beyond our control. Yet, even in the midst of destruction, I hold onto the reminder that signs of life are all around us—sometimes quiet, sometimes roaring, but always there.
One of my favorite artists, Foy Vance, has a song called Signs of Life. It reminds me of this truth:
"All through the ages, we die, we're born
It matters not how far we run, we all return to form.
See, you and I, we started out from nothing, now we're here."
This song speaks to the cycles of life—the destruction and rebirth that weave through our collective and personal journeys. It’s a reminder to trust your inner knowing, that amidst the smoke and ash, hope endures. Signs of resilience are everywhere: in the bravery of first responders, the unwavering support neighbors give one another, and even in the smallest green shoots that will inevitably emerge once the flames subside.
In times like these, it’s natural to feel helpless, but I believe there is always something we can do to offer solace, connection, and light. For me, Reiki, with its grounding energy and focus on collective healing, feels like a small yet meaningful way to help.
I will be holding a Community Reiki Session on Sunday 1/26 at 10am PST / 1pm EST, with all proceeds donated to Los Angeles Fire Department Foundation and The World Central Kitchen. I invite you to join me in creating a ripple of healing and support.
Let us not forget:
"Spark like a fire, lick like a flame…
Don't ever lie there, don't be afraid to cry
There's no need to even wonder why
It's just you becoming and the passing of time."
The fires remind us of our fragility but also of our resilience. We endure, we rebuild, and we rediscover the beauty of life. My heart is with Los Angeles—those fighting, those grieving, and those finding signs of life in the midst of despair.
May we all trust in our inner knowing and return to form, together.
All my love,
Emilie
