Editor’s note: This is our third dispatch from Sheri Barker, who is writing in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene. We encourage you to read her first dispatch here and her second here.
Friday, 24 November
4:30 a.m.
29 degrees with a feels like temp of 18
Light snow, some accumulation
“Live you must and let to live, fairly take and fairly give.”
In a perfect world that never has and never will exist, those words from the Wiccan Rede would be guiding words for all humanity to live by. In reality, it appears that much of humanity is not even guided by humanity’s most basic principles.
The other day I was talking with a friend about how to manage having an active presence on social media without getting sucked into the vortex of negativity. It is pretty simple in theory; you establish your boundaries, go about your business, and do not pay attention to or engage with egos, trolls, and things you cannot control or work with.
Navigating community during and after an epic disaster has presented many lessons and opportunities to practice those skills in real life. My partner has said we are experiencing the perfect opportunity to observe others as they fuck around, so we can find out who they indeed are. He’s at least partly right. This has also been an opportunity to observe myself and my actions and reactions while I live with my feet on the ground in the midst of chaos and its aftermath.
In the beginning, after the storm came through, water and mud were everywhere. Helene forced the Swannanoa River, the French Broad River, and all their usually cheerful, often peaceful, tributaries to wreak havoc and destroy homes, landscapes, communities, people, and themselves.
Across the Swannanoa River [Tamar Reno, courtesy]
My friend, the author Tamar Reno, created an intuitive mind map of the path of the water that flowed into the Swannanoa and French Broad. She shared it in a Facebook post dated November 17, 2024, in which she took her readers through an exploration of the region to process the changes wrought by the storm.
Reno described how “the headwaters of the Swannanoa are up by Black Mountain and are fed by Flat Creek, which winds its way down from Attakula (aka Mount Mitchell, the highest peak east of the Mississippi).”
Later, she wrote:
Flat Creek. Remember? It starts up near the highest peak of the Blue Ridge– Attakula. The elevation of Attakula is 6,684. It’s part of the Black Mountain range, a sub range of the Blue Ridge. During Helene, the area received 30.78 inches of rain. Water flows downhill. Helene dropped 40 trillion gallons of water.
Flat Creek winds its way down and feeds the Swannanoa River. The elevation in Swannanoa is 2,225. That’s a drop in elevation of nearly 4,500 feet.
I do not have to imagine the power and force with which 40 trillion gallons of water move. I see the proof every time I leave my home and go anywhere. My newsfeed is filled with images and stories of people who need help. There is no escape from the visual reminders of that event.
Fairly take and fairly give…
Those words from the Rede tumble around in my head sometimes when I cannot sleep, which is nearly every night. Occasionally, I go out and walk through the gardens or sit on the porch. The land spirits and elementals are active again, though still not as communicative as they used to be. We are all still in shock, and nothing feels quite right. It is the end of November, and the roses are still blooming. Even the plants have trauma responses to a natural disaster.
That tumble takes me to a place where I consider and acknowledge that those 40 trillion gallons of water Reno wrote about were possibly a trauma response by nature and this planet for all the damage caused by humans. There was no judgment about the individual lives impacted by the storm and flooding, but perhaps a judgment about the whole of humanity, which neither fairly takes nor fairly gives. I think about that water tearing across the land and waterways that I love, flora and fauna be damned, and it breaks my heart all over again.
Hobson Bridge, Demolished [Tamar Reno, courtesy]
It seemed we might have learned our lessons in the first weeks after the storm. Many people exhibited the best side of their nature. Fred Rogers’s helpers were present in abundance, making heroic efforts to save lives, offer shelter to those in need, share food and supplies, and ensure neighbors were fed and had water. I wanted to believe the stories told about politics and social beliefs no longer being important, that chainsaw crews of extremists worked side by side with chainsaw crews of liberals, and that everyone helped everyone else.
Once the immediate danger had passed, though, it was not long before the facades began to crack and slide away like pieces of mud-caked siding. The groups of helpers that traveled in from other areas started to include hate groups, religious zealots, bigots, and con artists. Some local helpers began to show their true colors, too.
I have neighbors who are the most racist people I have ever known. In the first days after the floodwaters subsided, a crew from a local Mexican restaurant traveled through the neighborhood every day, going to each neighbor’s door to offer as many hot meals as the household needed. Of course, my racist neighbors accepted that food and the cases of water delivered with it. That same restaurant has since reopened its doors. Every day, they donate 25% of their proceeds to someone in the community who needs help recovering from the flood.
The racist neighbors refuse to support the business in any way. “We wouldn’t dream of going to that place!”
Every Hispanic person they spotted carrying a case of water, a bag of food, or a gas can down the street was accused of being a looter. Never mind that water and gas were given away at numerous community aid stations; aid stations were for mooches and beggars.
The neighbors’ home and garage are filled with stacks of bottled water and piles of food, blankets, and other supplies that were donated to the community. They are different, you see, because they are white, and when they feel like it are good church-going people.
Fairly take and fairly give has never entered the equation of their lives. Neither has let to live.
A rose, covered by snow [S. Barker]
Of course, they do not represent the entire community any more than the Christian Nationalist group that replaced white hoods with red shirts and chainsaws that bought a business in town. Now they have a base from which to recruit, but they still do not represent the heart or spirit of every group that comes to help.
Hatred still rolls down the mountains and into this valley like the water did on September 27, as it has for a long time. I could tell a couple dozen more stories of toxic human behavior, but despite the weight of those stories, they are never the first thought on my mind.
“Live you must and let to live, fairly take and fairly give.”
A new community group has formed in the Swannanoa River Valley, filled with imperfect human beings who are willing to listen to and learn from each other no matter how hard it might be to do so. I attended my first meeting of the group this week and walked away from it feeling positive, afraid for the future, but hopeful.
There is work to be done and systems established so that the community is ready for the next disastrous event, whether or not it is natural in origin. Community, social, and cultural concerns are considered equally as important as practical matters. I was able to make a statement regarding the presence of Pagans and other non-Christian practitioners in this community and the concerns and fears we have about the future. That statement was met with acceptance and compassion that left me feeling hopeful.
There are smaller groups with their boots on the ground, fighting every day for the survival and rights of people who need assistance with housing, housing rights, food, heat, water, legal aid, and medical and emotional support. A new community center has been opened, powered by the sheer determination and love of two sisters and their families. They are boots in the mud every day, helping anyone and everyone who needs it. They, too, give me hope as they teach me about mutual aid: the epitome of fairly take and fairly give.
Negativity flows along Helene’s route through this region, but it meets resistance in the hearts of those who are willing to work to create a better, safer future. There is energy here to counter the despair created over the incredible distance Helene’s waters fell and compassion to help heal the land while it helps to heal the people.
The Rede is met by people who do not even know it exists but still bring it to life. Someday, those who do not abide by its guidance will become extinct.
So mote it be.
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