After the Fire: Lessons From the Flames

Do You Believe in God?

If so, what does that mean to you?

If not, what do you believe in?

These aren’t rhetorical questions, and I don’t expect you to have a neat, pat answer. I don’t.

But they’re questions I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

“Lately” as in the last twenty-some years.

And also “lately” as in the last week, hyper-focused on the events unfolding around me.

I live in California, the Los Angeles area, near where the Palisades wildfires recently tore through, destroying an unimaginable swath of nature, homes, businesses, and landscapes. The fire isn’t fully contained, and it’s being called one of the largest urban wildfires in history.

Houses are gone.
Businesses are gone.
Lives were lost.

A Strange Kind of Gratitude

First, let me say this: my family and I are safe. Our home is still standing.

Some of my friends were not so lucky.

If you believe in God, why did he/she/it “choose” for my house to stand and theirs to be taken away?

It’s a strange thing to think about.

There’s a certain trauma that comes with living through a natural disaster of this scale. My wife and I are doing our best to hold it together for our kids, to stay strong for them.

It’s an adult skill you develop—especially as a parent. You can’t always vent your feelings, fears, or frustrations in the moment.

Sometimes you hit pause. For a day. For a week. Until therapy, or a quiet talk with your best friend.

This is the mode we’ve been in.

What Do You Believe In?

I certainly believe in something.

Sometimes I call it God.
Sometimes I call it the universe.
Sometimes I call it nature.
Sometimes I call it love.
Sometimes I call it higher power.

I don’t necessarily understand it, but I try to talk to it. I try to listen to it.

So Many Questions

What happens now?

What’s in the air my children will breathe on our walks in the neighborhood? On our trips to the beach?

What’s happening with the climate?

What forces are keeping us stuck in the status quo?

And what can I do to help?

A Time to Unite

One thing I know: we must unite.

We need to stick together, to open our hearts and minds even wider.

I’ll try to keep an open heart. To be kind. To be thoughtful. To be of service.

This is my code. And the code doesn’t change in a time of crisis.

If anything, the need to lean on it only intensifies.

Let’s be kinder. Let’s be closer. Let’s question more deeply: does the world have to be this way?

Protecting What Matters

For now, I’m staying out of politics. Politics divide us, just as religion often does.

I’m sticking to what I know—which, admittedly, isn’t much.

But I know this: it’s my job to protect my family, my children, my home. And this planet? It’s part of my home. It’s the legacy I’ll leave for my children.

There’s a primal part of me that wanted to run out into the fires, pick up a bucket, and start throwing water.

It felt awful to stand by, unable to help physically. And yet I am beyond grateful for the firefighters who saved and protected us.

Still Figuring It Out

What am I saying?

Honestly, I’m still trying to figure it out.

This is fresh. I’m still in it.

But one thing is certain: we have a choice to come together, to ask the hard questions, and to protect what matters.

—

Ari Welkom, known on stage as Avatari, is an LA-based alt-rock singer and actor. A Harvard graduate, married father of two, and former college athlete, he practices martial arts and champions anti-bullying, equal rights, and unity on his journey of recovery. Follow him on Instagram or Twitter (X)!

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