she survived the fire
the hike I turned back from & what changed the second time
The trail breaks off from the paved path and turns to dry dirt. Lizards scatter as I pass. The Hollywood Sign disappears behind me and there is one more peak to climb before I see her standing alone at the top, roots spreading wide across the dry earth, the whole city visible beneath her.
I tried this hike two weeks ago and turned back half a mile from the peak. I was dehydrated, underprepared, and somewhere in my body I just knew it wasn’t time. I turned around without fighting it.
Yesterday was different. I woke up nourished and excited, had breakfast and matcha, packed extra water and a snack I didn’t even end up needing. Just knowing it was there felt like enough. There was a pep in my step I hadn’t had the first time, and something in me said today was the day.
The ascent continued for 3 miles — over a thousand feet of elevation gain, water breaks in the shade, lizards darting across the path. Most of it follows the paved road toward the Hollywood Sign, but once that turnout comes, the Wisdom Tree trail breaks off into something rawer. Dry dirt, open sky, one real peak left to climb.
And then there she was.
The Wisdom Tree is a solitary pine that survived an 800-acre fire of 2007 as its sole survivor. People come to her for wisdom, for a moment of stillness, for the 360-degree view of everything beneath her. She was stunning. Everything felt peaceful in her presence.
Below her sat a pile of journals filled with notes from strangers — gratitude, encouragement, grief, humor, prayer. Two boxes packed with more private notes tucked into her roots by people who made the climb and wanted to leave something behind.
As I was reading through them, two hikers arrived at the tree. One placed his hand on the trunk right away. The other walked past it. His friend reached back and grabbed his arm: wait, no, you have to touch the tree.
Every single person who made it up that mountain reached out and touched her. We all want a little hope, trust, beauty, and magic. We all want to touch the thing that feels real.
So I sat down and wrote a note for a stranger, something I hoped would find whoever needed it. And then I wrote one for myself.
Week four of The Artist’s Way talks about the phrase we use in business: put it in writing. Contracts, agreements, deals. Why don’t we do the same with our agreements with the universe, with the creator, with ourselves?
There’s also a passage that stopped me mid-page this week.
“Just as travelers on a jet are seldom aware of their speed unless they hit a patch of turbulence, so too travelers on the artist’s way are seldom aware of the speed of their growth.”
I had never taken a moment to think about that before, but something really resonated. Because I’ve been on a jet for months, maybe even years, looking out the window and wondering why nothing seemed to be moving. How do I still not know what’s next? But maybe I’ve been moving all along. Maybe the growth was happening even when I couldn’t see it.
So I wrote my commitment down in writing, supported by her roots.
Today is my last day in LA, wrapping up two weeks that felt intuitively led from start to finish. And today I’m launching something that has been quietly building in me for years.
It’s called undrstory — a strategic advisory for leaders who feel the drag, sense the drift, and know something important isn’t being said beneath the surface of their business. I find it. I name it. I help you lead from there, with the kind of calm that makes hard things easier to face.
I trust it. I’m open and excited and curious about what comes next.
We’re live and feeling extra alive!
The Wisdom Tree survived because her roots went deeper than the fire could reach. I've had these roots my whole life. I'm just finally letting them grow above ground.
What commitment can you make to your own creative soul? try putting it in writing and tapping into whatever wisdom and magic is around you.