Written by Hitendra Wadhwa
Dear Candace,
Los Angeles holds a special place in my heart. The ocean, the weather, the spaciousness with which Angelenos think, speak and act, the way they so freely infuse the spiritual into the material, the epic Hollywood films we’ve all enjoyed over the years.
LA is also home to the beatific grounds of Yogananda’s Self-Realization Fellowship — among these, Mother Center on Mt. Washington and Lake Shrine on Sunset Blvd. From my early twenties, I have made many pilgrimages to these SRF sites to soak in their vibration, meditate in their gardens and seek the counsel of monks and nuns residing there. No wonder, I think to myself, “Los Angeles” is Spanish for “the angels.”
And so the disaster that’s unfolding with the Los Angeles fires is very personal to me. I am in LA at present, since I live between here and New York.
It is my hope that this moment will trigger a deeper soul-searching in Californians once the dust settles. What is happening to our weather? Are our communities well-prepared to adapt to climate changes? What expectations should we have for our local, state and federal governments around disaster preparedness and response? How should we hold them accountable? Are we allocating our civic resources in the wisest manner? Are natural disasters the planet’s way of telling us that Mother Nature isn’t at ease with our way of life, just like early symptoms of chronic disease are sometimes our body’s way of telling us to live more healthfully? Was this truly a natural “act of God,” or were there things being done by actors on the ground that activated it, or could have prevented it? Sometime soon, these questions should be faced and properly addressed.
For now, I know you will join me in feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the firefighters and other first responders who are working tirelessly on the scenes of these fires. And I want to offer some ways we can be of service to those in our circle who are grappling with grave losses. Some of us may be in this group. (I am grateful that my home and neighborhood have been spared in the carnage the fires have wrought thus far)
Four ways to respond
As best I can offer, there are four ways we can be of support to those whose lives are upended by sudden, calamitous loss.
Material support is where we take concrete, physical steps to alleviate people’s suffering — for instance, offering someone temporary shelter, lending a hand to rebuild a neighborhood or providing financial aid. The material help offered by a neighbor, the police and a driver shines through in this report of how Aaron Samson helped his 83-year-old father-in-law, who has Parkinson’s, escape from the rapidly proliferating fire in the Pacific Palisades. The most heroic moment in this story was when the father-in-law told Aaron, “Aaron, if we are ever in a position where the flames are right there, you just run and leave me here.”
Emotional support is where we help people process their grief or shock so they can begin to cope with their new circumstances. We may honor the loss they are experiencing, comfort them with our words, and help them realize they are not alone. A hug, a heartfelt conversation, a check-in, a fond remembrance of what has been taken away. My dear friend, Candace Lightner, has just shared on LinkedIn this heartfelt and evocative expression of emotional support for her friend in LA, and then exhorted us to give “permission to grieve” to those we know who have suffered losses.
We can offer psychological support by invoking the power of the mind. In a previous newsletter, I shared how Thomas Edison responded to a calamitous fire which burned down his business. This story spotlights a near-instant form of mental healing we can all activate.
At around 5:30 pm on Dec 10, 1914, 67-year-old Thomas Edison saw his life’s work go up in flames. Ten buildings in his plant — more than half the buildings on his property — were engulfed in fire.
How would you react, if you saw your hard work — decades’ worth of research and notes and prototypes — go up in smoke?
This is what Edison did:
He walked over to his then 24-year-old son, Charles, and told him, “Go get your mother and all her friends. They'll never see a fire like this again."
Edison estimated that the fire had destroyed about $919,788 (which would amount to over $23 million today).
“As one of the millions of your admirers, I send you my sympathy,” fellow-inventor Nikola Tesla telegraphed him. “It is not only a personal and national loss, but a world loss, for you have been one of its greatest benefactors.”
Who would have blamed Edison if he’d sorrowfully hung up his boots that day? After all, he was 67 years of age when this happened.
But his response was, “I'll start all over again tomorrow." And he did.
He turned the disaster itself into an innovation. Having noticed firefighters struggling to see in the smoky darkness, Edison emerged, two days later, with a new invention — a powerful battery-powered searchlight. Then, within three weeks of the fire, he secured a loan. Employees worked double shifts for a while, and, four years later, his business went on to make almost $10 million.
What’s remarkable about this story isn’t that Edison worked hard after the fire and recovered his momentum. That is something we see heroes doing after they fall, and Edison, with all his accomplishments, is a hero after all.
What’s remarkable is that he accepted the card life dealt him that day with so much equanimity and started to work on how he might rebound from it, even while the fire was raging. He must have had little clue about how he would rise from the ashes and little reassurance he could actually succeed at doing so. As soon as he saw that he could do nothing to avert the disaster, he started to do all he could to move through it, with grace and gumption. He even found a way to invent something from the disaster.
Could you and I be mini-Edisons whenever we face any disappointment, minor or major? Where we recover our poise right away, find a creative way to benefit from the setback and get our life back on track?
What’s the secret to this near-instant activation of resilience? Here is where I think the answer lies. You see, most of us, we sometimes feel we have agency, and at other times, we feel we do not. The Edisons among us — these people do not like to live one minute without feeling they have agency over their circumstances. Now, as the fire story shows, they don’t always have agency over all their circumstances, but by choosing to accept the things they cannot change, they concentrate all their emotional energy on changing the things they can.
They do so by asking themselves, “Okay, so this has happened. Now, what am I going to do about it?” By asking this question, they are able to place themselves in the role of a hero in their life journey. Like Dale Short from Pasadena, California, who, upon losing the home he’d lived in for 60 years, said, “I’ll be okay. I’m tough. Even though I’m 91 years old, I’ll start over again.”
And finally, spiritual support is where we help ignite the indomitable spirit that lies at the core of someone’s being. We may, for example, affirm the courage they possess at their core, remind them of their inner strength, anchor them in their relationship with an all-loving, omnipresent higher power or deeply pray for them. In a previous newsletter, I shared how one man drew on his spirit at a time of incalculable loss:
Horatio Spafford, a Chicago businessman and lawyer, and his wife Anna lost their son to scarlet fever when he was four. A year later, most of Horatio’s business assets were burned down in the Great Fire of Chicago. Two years after that, Anne embarked with their remaining children — four girls — on a voyage to England. Along the way, tragedy struck again. Their steamship sank after striking another ship. 226 people lost their lives, including all four of Anna’s girls. She herself was rescued.
As a broken-hearted Horatio was sailing on a ship to reunite with his wife after receiving Anna’s telegram telling him that their four girls had died, the captain of the ship came to him at one point. He shared that they were now passing near the place where his daughters’ ship had sunk. This experience moved him to write a hymn. Here is its first verse, which I truly love.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Some of us are instinctively disposed to offer a material response, or an emotional, psychological or spiritual response. Ideally, we should offer whatever response is of most value for that person, in that moment.
Look at Candace Lightner, for example. How lovingly in her LinkedIn post she supports her friend’s grieving and exhorts us to do the same for those in our circle. You might think, “Oh, she is one of those warm, empathetic people who will hold your hand and help you process your feelings.” That’s true. And yet, it is this same Candace Lightner who, when her teenage daughter was killed by a drunk driver, demonstrated a mind of steel, responding in an Edison-like manner by channeling her grief into the very consequential launch of an epic movement — Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD). It is estimated that over 475,000 lives have been saved over the years by what MADD has accomplished. Candace channeled her emotional grief at the loss of her daughter into psychological resolve to advance reforms in laws, law enforcement and social behavior — a mission which, over time, delivered a huge material impact in our world. Here is a very rewarding interview I did with her on my Intersections podcast.
Edison, Horatio and Candace. Dale, Aaron and his father-in-law. All offer beautiful testaments to the physical, emotional, psychological and spiritual capacities we possess at our core to triumph over the furious fires that erupt occasionally in our seemingly secure lives.
Join me in sending our healing prayers and light to everyone who may be hurting at present, among the angels of Los Angeles and every other corner of our beloved world.
Warmly,
Hitendra