When Sky Opens What is it to stand beneath the gray and dream of something heavier— a weight not of burden but of blessing, soft, unrelenting, falling? The ash, gray as uncertainty, speaks a language without syllables, settling on leaves, on roads, on the curve of a bird’s wing as if daring us to forget what once was green. But still, I lift my face to sky, knowing rain will come. Not as promise— it has never promised— but as answer to a question we didn’t know we were asking. And when it comes, it will wash the silence from the branches, the grief from the soil, the weight from our shoulders. And in that moment, even the gray will seem beautiful— for it held the space until the rain could arrive.
The Oscar nominations are out, and the film industry is gearing up for its biggest night.
But outside the Dolby Theatre, Los Angeles is suffocating. California’s wildfires are raging worse than ever, with thousands displaced, homes destroyed, and billions in damage.
Yet Hollywood presses on with its glittering spectacle.
This year, the Academy has a chance to do something unprecedented: cancel the Oscars.
It would send a message that the industry values more than branding and self-congratulation. It would be a true act of sacrifice in a state desperately in need of real action.
The Oscars aren’t cheap. The ceremony costs tens of millions, much of it taxpayer-supported. That money should be diverted to wildfire relief, helping displaced families and rebuilding communities.
Instead of red carpets and gift bags, stars could use their platforms to highlight the crisis.
California’s fires have already burned over 3 million acres this year, with damages topping $15 billion. Thousands have no homes to return to.
Meanwhile, Hollywood’s awards season carries on, selling movies and streaming subscriptions as if the crisis were just another backdrop.
Canceling the ceremony wouldn’t solve climate change or extinguish flames, but it would mark a turning point.
For too long, Hollywood has relied on speeches and symbolic gestures to address global crises. This would show real leadership.
The Oscars have survived wars and pandemics. But maybe survival isn’t enough anymore.
It’s time for Hollywood to let go of its golden idols and focus on something bigger.
Cancel the show. That’s an ending worth celebrating.
Birdsong The mornings, this morning, the trees wear quiet like an old coat, soft, worn thin. The air holds its breath, waiting to stitch its seams. No raven’s rasp, no owl’s midnight wisdom lingers in shadows. No quick percussion of the woodpecker shakes the hollow heart of the pines. Yet the sun, unbothered, still spills over hills, still tips needles in gold. Wings will kick up dust once more, stirring the quiet into melody, a promise unblinking: nothing ever is truly lost. The birdsong will return a day soon. All those aloft know the art of rising resides in the will of resolve.
