As a graduate instructor of mythology and psychology, I'm interested when old stories and legends come back to life because they often contain some long-neglected wisdom. 

Native Californians told stories about Coyote, their version of the archetypal Trickster. In many mythologies Trickster brings fire to humanity. He can be counted on to show up when things get too tightly controlled or exclusive because Trickster likes to cross borders and boundaries.  In his form as Coyote, he rocks boats and float too serenely and upsets what has remained too firmly in place because life requires flexibility, playfulness and humor. 

Unfortunately, when a situation has been static for far too long, Coyote is liable to get out of hand. As an agent of chaos he is often caught in the effects of what he has spilled, turned over, or burned up.

On November 13, 2008, ten college-age students trespassed into the Tea Garden area of Santa Barbara to build a bonfire. Although they did not do this to invoke Coyote, Trickster is a god of trespassing as well as of fire. The students left believing they had put the fire out, but the winds kicked it up and sent it through Montecito. One of the first streets to burn was Coyote Lane.

Montecito is not only one of the wealthiest places in California, it is also one of the most exclusive. Many of its mansions are guarded with high gates. Around the homes accumulate heaps of brush no one wants to deal with, palm trees raised like stage props, and eucalyptus trees that explode when ignited. When the firestorm had passed, 230 homes had burned on 1,9400 acres and  9 more homes were damaged. One family almost did not escape in time because their gate would not open once the power went out.

Even before the smoke disbursed the conflagration was dubbed the Tea Fire.  Because mythically tinged happenings can be interpreted like dreams that use word tricks, we could translate this as a "tee" fire: T for Trickster teeing off in Santa Barbara.

Could this have been prevented by clearing away the brush? Certainly, but having seen the way old tales come back to life in situations that trigger them, I suspect that Coyote would have found another way in. Although no one is to blame for what happened, least of all the sorrowing residents who lost their homes and valuables (an acquaintance of mine escaped just as the flames reached her driveway), this catastrophe could have a bright side after all to the extent it prompts a question:

How can we find ways to advocate for the return of story and myth to our denuded educational curriculums?  A tale learned from is one that may remain safely in the pages of a book instead of roaring back to life across our overheated landscapes.