| “Ubuntu” is an ancient African term that is often translated as “I am because we are” or (“I am because you are”). First and foremost, ubuntu reflects an understanding of shared or common humanity. It is a philosophy that advocates for collectivism over individualism. It asserts that such a society gives human beings a sense of human-ness or WHOLENESS (humanity). I first learned this term while browsing a West Philly thrift store tucked between a Hallal restaurant and an Ethiopian Cafe/Bar (if you’re from the neighborhood, you know). This was my first introduction to a philosophy based on ‘interdependence’. I was about 20 years old and immersed in the “Philly Punk Scene”. What that truly meant (besides seeing a ton of live music) was learning the importance of community, how to offer & receive care, donating my time to shelters, and beginning to understand the harms perpetuated by many of the greater foundational systems within our capitalist society. I dove into reading as much as possible by bell hooks, Audre Lorde, June Jordan, Octavia Bulter, Cherie Moranga, and more radical women of color. This was all thanks to the Black Panthers, afrofuturists, liberation/freedom fighters, and MOVE activists in my historically marginalized neighborhood. From film nights to donation drives to potlucks to benefit shows, I learned about the critical need to *depend* on one another not merely to survive, but to thrive. It was the first time I felt “home” as I was welcomed within this community without judgment. Nearly a decade later, when I decided to uproot from the East Coast, though it was a choice I made consciously (to connect more with the natural world) my entire heart shattered. How could this be? How could it be possible to be overly attached to *a place* or a fleeting feeling of *connectedness within the community*? A few years ago, I stepped into O Happy Days Cafe on Lake and was brought home by the pungent familiar scent of countless loose-leaf teas, health elixirs, and spices intermingling in the air. Folks sat together at a communal table while flipping through the local paper. They seemed to be unaffected by imposed/internalized constraints of ‘time’. The pace was just right. They all knew one another by name. Shortly thereafter, hiking up to Eaton Canyon, I discovered goats, horses, and quirky homes with art strewn across yards. I knew Altadena was where I would attempt to begin again. At the time, I was living in Oregon, finishing writing a graduate thesis, and by the time I returned, the intention was set. The day after submitting my thesis, I started the journey along the coast – my car filled with a few bags of clothes, books, and my friend Monte. By the end of my first year in LA, I finally came across *the* ad for a listing in Altadena. Within hours of making the call, we had signed a lease to live on a commune-like property (commune vibe but less commitment as renters). It was abundant in fruit trees and had many shared outdoor spaces, and it was there where I fell in love with a tiny hut. This hut, similar to a monk’s “kuti” dwelling, was much ‘like a treehouse’ my friend said pointing at the hundred+-year-old cactus filling my kitchen window. Equipped with just a camping stove and a tiny fridge, this brick-floored shack was the closest I could get to ‘outdoor living’ or constant ‘glamping’. It was nearly impossible to keep the leaves out despite sweeping multiple times a day and good luck trying to take a call. After all, the reception would only work on a tip-toe over here or in a side plank on the right upmost corner of the bed. Despite its bare bones, this was the place I had long envisioned living, and wow, it was perfect. I cherished every day I spent in Altandea and never felt “fully deserving” of living in such a magical, unified, and gorgeous place. It was much more than just another captivating town situated at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains. Anyone who lived there knew! Evenings were spent catching sunsets from Cobbs estate or Millard Canyon. At Cobbs, you might hear a local gig playing or the faint drumming carrying up the hill from the Rhymth of the Village drum shop. At the cliff’s edge, I could gently close my eyes and be transported to my first long-term love where drum lines marched up the block, chess matches took over the park, and friends gathered as their dogs chased joy up and down a hill. Similarly, in the Dena, you could attend a pot-luck at a neighbor’s, maybe pool hop between neighbor’s places and your own, spend hours wandering the blocks discovering newness with each journey, make conversation with new faces at the cafe, and wave hello to the same grinning faces each morning and evening on your peaceful walk. This week, my community lost the *shell* or the structure itself of Altadena to the devastating Eaton Canyon fire. At least ten of my dearest friends, neighbors, and clients/chosen fam are now without a place to live. While I remain grateful to be here now with my health and my dog, I, too, lost “it all” and our treasured tiny home. But “it” was nothing in the grand scheme. The night we departed, I could not fathom that we may not return. I shut the lights off calmly, blew out my candles, and made the bed before turning the key to lock the door. Shortly thereafter, my heart broke in a way I did not fathom possible. The same way it broke when I left Philly. This heartbreak, though, was not simply for our homes and our material belongings that shockingly burned to the ground overnight. It was for the spirit behind this special town that would now be deflated and perhaps, even more tragic, lost. When homes started burning in Altadena, I knew it would be an uphill battle ahead to recreate the magic that has long existed thanks to its special inhabitants – creatures and beings. Many Altadena residents will not have the means to deny insurance payoffs for plots of land that have been passed on through generations. However, because Altadena has such a strong spirit, they will try and *try again*. At the most recent Village festival in Altadena, an elder African man spoke directly into the microphone, “I see you. I feel you. I hear you, and I love you. I am, because of who we all are.” As I felt my jaw drop and tears slowly fall down my face, I peered out from under the brim of my hat to see many others with a shared expression. This wise and lovely man had just explained the concept of ubuntu plainly which I first learned about in Philly. How beautiful to recognize home as a concept, a philosophy, a spirit rather than solely, a dwelling. How healing and soothing this has been for my broken heartedness. Today I visited Pasadena for the first time since I drove through 70 mph winds, my car sliding, branches and debris actively flying at my car from all directions, fleeing a massive fire with my dog’s safety as my top priority. It pained me to see the skeleton of Altadena in the distance. I sat and observed. The longer I sat, the more I was reminded that if it were not for each of you, for each friend, my meditation and Muay Thai communities, and neighbors who knocked to give me evacuation notice, I would not be here today. Altadena is feral and free, as an unincorporated town, it had long resisted corporate development and instead embodied a community of spirit based on the collectivist philosophy of ubuntu. My heart is with all of Altadena’s artists, black sheep, free-spirits, witches and warlocks, critical thinkers, fringe-dwellers, commune-without-commmitment-wannabes (hi), granola-city folk, rancho cowboys, and open-hearted, kind-eyed authentic and mostly, down to earth humans. Altadena will forever remain home in my heart.May we, and all who know those affected and displaced from Altadena, nurture spaces & villages based on the vitality of INTERBEING or INTERCONNECTEDNESS wherein our need for connection, support, and healing comes from within the community and not in isolation. May we carry home in our hearts wherever we roam. |
Body Drift Healing Arts 
One response to “An Ode to the Dena”
Amen and so it is🙏💛🩷💙🙏
May we carry home in our hearts wherever we roam. 🌈💕 Crying from the heart based truth and perfect expression of what we had in Your Ode to the Dena – the loss is immense and my heart is broken – one breath at a time, one foot in front of the other. Big hug to you and a scratch to Monte….see you soon. 💛🩷💙
LikeLike