Filosophy Burns In Marshal Fire December 30th, 2021

It was December 30th, and I woke up with a sense of excitement because today was the day I would get to cash in my 47th birthday present from my husband, to have a past life regression session. Out the door, I went dressed in my favorite pair of uber soft black, Athletica leggings, and my gray “Kail-in’ it” tank top, my cozy cream-colored fleece jacket that reminded me of wearing a sheep's coat, and my comfy pair of fuzzy Ugg boots. I felt in a rush that morning, so I grabbed my little leather purse, threw it over my shoulder, and ran out the door.   I didn’t even bother to put on socks.  Never could I have imagined the clothes I walked out in that day would soon be my only possessions in the world.

For years I have been obsessed with near-death experiences, and have been astonished at how similar each NDE person’s story really is.  Listening to their accounts of unconditional love, peace, and telepathic communication with one another, I was eager to experience it for myself.  And this morning, I was sure this past life regression session would assuage my curiosity about life on the other side and somehow I would better understand my purpose here on earth.

As I was deep in meditation, visiting my spirit-guide named Caroline, my father who had passed away when I was three, my favorite teacher and mentor Sandy, my grandma, and my dog Brutus, 10 miles away, my home, my business, and all of my art was burning to the ground. 

After a three-hour inward journey, I returned to my car, turned on my phone, and was bombarded with dozens of text alert sounds erupting from my phone.  Each one a message from my friends, “Are you ok?” “Did you have to evacuate?” “Did you get out safely?” I thought what the hell?  I looked around, I didn’t see anything.  There was no smoke, no alarms, no flash floods, no sign of any distress whatsoever.

So I called my husband to ask what the heck was going on and all he said was, “Babe, our house is on fire, I am standing at the top of the hill, and I am watching our neighborhood go up in flames.”

What?! What are you talking about?

He said, “We have to evacuate now, and I need you to meet me in Evergreen at our friend's house in the mountains.”

Startled and confused, I drove in a haze, straight to Evergreen to take refuge with our friends in their cozy mountain home; never realizing the trajectory of my life was about to change forever. All evening, we sat glued to the news, watching in shock as the flames engulfed our community.  The scenes coming from the computer screen seemed more like a movie than my actual life. 

As I watched the neighborhood burn, oddly, a thrill passed through my body.  I felt a wave of excitement flood over me. I saw myself walking into the total unknown, an adventure like I had never been on before.  This would be a reality completely unforeseeable, a path I had never visited in my mind’s eye.  And all of a sudden I got really enthusiastic to take on a challenge greater than I could have ever imagined before.  In a flash, I saw that I have been training for this moment for years. This would become a Ph.D. program for my soul. The only requirement to pass this course was total surrender.  All I could do, at that moment, was have faith the universe would totally have my back.

I have always been spiritual, but thinking I could just let go of the wheel of my life, and gracefully allow things to miraculously unfold in their own time has never been my jam.  My youth pastor Kevin would tell me, “Katie, I picture you in a cornfield, with a huge machete swinging back and forth saying to yourself, “I will find God’s will!” And that’s always been me.  Willing and eager, yes, surrendered and patient, not so much. 

But as I saw the flames on TV, I began to realize all the years of my hard work creating Filosophy, all my designs, and inventory, my favorite pieces of art I couldn’t bear to part with, my baby blanket, and my favorite handmade mugs, all disappeared in an instant.  

This time I had no choice but to surrender. 

At that moment, I realized the evidence of my entire life had been reduced to ashes.  Single, stainless steel, labradorite necklace, and an eggplant-colored racer back bra, what I was wearing that day, were the only pieces I had left of my business.

I have nothing left to sell, no business to build, I have only this story to share. And the one thing I have learned so far… is that we are not alone.  The world is really kind, the community is everything, and sometimes people whom you would never expect to care about you, reach out their hand, and help lift you up.  

(to be continued...