Rising From The Ashes
New Life Begins
Again
By Kathleen A. Ball Ph,D.
We
arrived at sunset to see the blackened earth and charred trees which were
the remains of years of happiness,
abundant gardens of food, flowers, Japanese Maples, Oaks and Pines, my studio,
my husband’s shop and, our home. But instead of seeing destruction, which was
all around me, the first thing I noticed as
I looked out over the horizon, was the most glorious reds, oranges and
magentas I had ever seen. I was
mesmerized by the beauty of the sunset view, in the midst of the ashes. As my
gaze fell to the Earth below, where my entryway once stood, the heads of
Leonardo da Vinci in clay and Willie Nelson, in bronze, still intact with their
heads held high above the chard remains, were a sharp contrast to the bits and
pieces of china, mangled wires and smoke. Oddly, I was filled with a feeling of
freedom, when looking upon the ashes of almost sixty years of life. Remains
that once contained, thousands of books that had once consumed as many thousands of hours of study, in search of truth,
a Master's and finally a Doctorate degree, which was once the foundation from
which my life's work as an Artist and Professor of Art, sprang. Thousands of
hours in lecture notes, course curriculum and boxes and boxes of demos and teaching supplies, poof, all gone in a puff
of smoke. I stood there contemplating what I might do with this clear slate.
Teaching again would be highly unlikely without my years of notes, supplies,
slides, etc. It would take years to replace those things. And, I'd already
reaped the benefits and joy from the years I taught, in every moment of
creation, finding great books and supplies for my students, ideas for new ways
to get through and the exhilaration I felt each time they created a work of art for the first
time. It was an honor, few people ever know. I knew in my heart, that I would
now take all those experiences of my life and recreate a very different future.
Two
years before the fire an opportunity arose which allowed me a sneak peak into
this empty slate I found myself presented with in 3D reality. I went on an
excursion into the Amazon Jungle in Peru to participate in a ten day ancient
healing, cermonial retreat. After living with a deadly liver disease for more
than forty years, I'd developed cancerous tumors. Each surgery produced more
tumors, so at the time of this trip to Peru, I had seven tumors in my liver. To
prepare for this healing it was necessary to completely empty myself of all
attachments. To accomplish this I meditated for several weeks prior to the trip
visualizing who I would be if I weren’t a wife, mother, teacher, artist, TV
show host or all the other titles I'd adopted through the years. The woman who
entered in to the ceremonies was just a soul searching for wholeness. When I
emerged and returned to the States, and after a CT scan it was revealed that I
was cancer free.
This
lasted only nine months and again I was developing tumors. Time for another
surrender, I went to Brazil in August of 2015. This time as I traveled the
beautiful cities of Abadiana, Alta Paraiso and many in between, I met with
Shamans and healers and participated in meditations with Hindu masters, yoga
and Sufi masters who collectively assisted me on a spiritual journey that
little did I know, was to set the foundation for the rest of my life. It was a
preparing me for what was soon to come.
Returning
from Brazil, having come to peace with everything and everyone within my being
I sat in meditation and contemplated a sculpting job Id been offered in Alta
Paraiso and also, the possibility of an impending liver transplant that my
doctors continued to face me with. For nine days I considered my options. I
felt encumbered by all the stuff, we'd have to sort through if my husband and I
chose to move to Brazil.
On
the eighth day after returning from Brazil, while still processing my future
options, the smoke from the Butte fire had begun to build in the skies above
us, working its way through Mokeulumne Hill, Hwy 26 and was heading to Pine
Grove and Glencoe. We sat tight, listening to the Fire Fighters reports and
advice not to worry about evacution. By he Thursday September 10th 2015 I remember intuitively, I felt
increasingly uneasy all through that day as the Authorities continued to advise
us not to worry. We'd rounded up our kitties, Pi, Chatom Jolie, Meritaten and
Tiya just in case, and had them all in the house, their carriers handy,
important papers, the silver, and a few mementos just in case. But, I must say,
we really didn't think we were leaving until the knock on the door. Our nephew,
Cody had arrived with a few friends, beckoning us outside. What we saw shook us
to the marrow. 250 feet of flames coming over the ridge behind our garage.
Pretty impressive and quite motivating.
Throwing
what we could in the cars, my husband and Cody rode two of our motorcycles out,
his friends drove our other car and we high tailed it for our cabin in Garden
Valley. Thank goodness we had a place to stay, as many others were left
completely stranded, in tents and cars in the Mountain Ranch Park. I felt
extremely lucky. I knew as sure as the ground beneath my feet, that we would
never see our home again as we were frantically scrambling out our front door
for the last time.
After
that night, everything seemed to happen so quickly I barely recall the details.
They involved insurance companies and Fire Agencies, Fema and Red Cross and, of
course my liver doctors. And in the midst of it, we'd had to relocate into
something winter worthy, which meant moving yet again. Luckily, we have some
amazing and very dear friends, one of whom, Marci Biagi, lent us one of her
rental units just in the nick of time. I'd been on the transplant list for more
than four years, it seemed it had all come down to the wire all at once. While
in the middle of dealing with all the mundane tasks of replacing clothing,
dishes, toothbrushes and birth certificates, my doctor decided I needed an
additional CT scan. Low and behold, another two tumors. This time rapid
growing. I looked the Doctor square in the eye this time, and said, “Take it,
I'm ready.”
So
the morning of November 5th, I awoke surrounded by doctors, my
husband, my loving family and dear friends with a brand new liver.
My
birthday gift the next year, March 28th 2016, was moving into our
new home in Pine Grove. The joyful and fun-filled process of completely
redecorating it began. It was so much fun. Built around the skeleton of the few
remaining possessions we had managed to stuff in our vehicles in the fifteen minutes
we'd left with the fire on our heals, we recreated our new home. It's lovely
and we're happy, our children, grandchildren and our kitties love it.
Interestingly
enough, before the fire I had been quite a prolific sculptor. With very few of
my works of Art of over 40 years, I had no clay, no kilns, no tools. So off to
the Art supply and oddly enough, I came away with painting supplies instead.
This began a flood of new creations. I painted over fifteen paintings in the
course of three months, post fire. The first being one I entitled, “Rising From
the Ashes”. (see Plate l )
After
settling in and giving my body a bit of time to recover, I've returned to those
earlier contemplations. What shall I do, with my remaining years? What gives my
soul joy? My family and traveling the world was my immediate response.
I
thought to myself, I can take this job in Brazil now. Nothing holding me back.
But missing family would be an issue. My grandchildren are my pride and joy,
leaving them for a year isn't an option.
Within
weeks I received calls and emails of requests from friends and acquaintances,
regarding travel. Knowing that I'd done extensive travel throughout Europe,
Canada, South America, Egypt, etc. I was now
being asked to take people to these places that had each in their unique ways,
filled me with wonder and joy, excitement and thrilled me to the core.
My
answer to the questions regarding my future that had been arising from my soul,
beginning only days before the fire, and after months filled with a whirlwind
of events, had presented itself with absolutely no struggle or labor what so
ever. It had appeared before me as a magic carpet arrives on the breeze from
the Heavens.
With
the circle now complete, the rebirth in progress, I am filled with humility and
reverence. Life is an ongoing process so exquisitely full of excitement and
renewal, I can't imagine missing a single moment.
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