by Anne Gabriel
There are sometimes winds that sweep through Los Angeles creating a cyclone of airborne trash, uprooting mature trees, raging fires and devastation—mostly of personal property—and they’re called the Santa Ana’s. This time they’re racing through Los Angeles at 100 miles per hour causing fires at nearly every outskirt circling Los Angeles proper.
I recognize that these winds cause destruction of property and homes and at worse—lives.
But I love them.
Let me explain: The day before the winds came, I was driving through Los Angeles—as one does in a city made of multiple individual boroughs—and I remember distinctly thinking “what is wrong with everyone?” Humans seemed to have lost their minds the same way other animals freak out when they sense an earthquake coming. Within 30 minutes of driving I saw 10 police cars racing somewhere to handle something and no less than 5 drivers nearly crashed into me on account of sheer inattention on their part—and I remember thinking something is coming—that something was the winds.
The winds drive most people crazy—but they bring me pure unadulterated joy. Why does something that scatters other’s thoughts and makes the world volatile bring me such pleasure?
“I get dust in my eyes” “I’m afraid things will fall on me” “They’re unsettling” People say all these things.
Yes, they are unsettling.
They feel feral. They remind me on a very visceral level of our animal nature—and I think in our mostly structured and organized world—on a subconscious level—that level of wild uncontrollability—terrifies people. The idea that in this world shaped by politics and billionaires and entertainment that good, old-fashioned nature could assert itself so undeniably is hard to believe.
The winds embody the violent unpredictability that is life in a way that is unyielding, unstoppable, and that moves right through the very core of your being—and it is very much my happy place. The same way a long rainstorm seems to cleanse the air of debris, the winds seem to do that for my soul.
I grew up in Los Angeles with the winds. When the winds came, the streets would become deserted—people running for shelter in case they were swept away. It was in these very instances that I tied on my roller skates and ran outside to allow the winds to push me in any direction they chose. Sometimes I would grab an umbrella or three, ala Mary Poppins, hoping the winds would take me with them. The abandonment to unpredictability was exhilarating and even as a young child I was comforted. I knew the winds were wild, I knew I was the only one outside enjoying them—and they spoke to the very center of me.
This go round with my old friends was no exception. As the winds encircled Los Angeles generating uncontrollable fires and turning the sky into a hazy electric dusty pink casting a rose tint on all things below—the winds enveloped me, played in my hair, brought me into the eye of their cyclonic center—and said hello. I have known them all my life.
Photo: Getty Images