Following the Sun

Happy December. Happy Winter.

Holy Moses it has been cold. Bite-y cold. Sharp on my cheekbones cold.

And even though by sundown at 4:35 in the afternoon, my shoulder's ache and I'm ready for bed, I've been thriving.

I'm feeling creative and excited. Inspired and enlightened. Spontaneity is welcome to make its appearance. I feel less stress, and much more will to enjoy myself.

And lemons. I don't think there is much else in this world that taste as good as these heavenly lemons.

I'm walking in the afternoons, more often than my mornings, which is harmless enough. I've learned that I seem to walk much better when my legs don't begin to seize and shorten my stride. Lesson learned.

But there's a short window for when the sun's light is honest, and when the dependability of the slight warmth it (might) give begins to fade. But--- I should also mention--- I hardly like to go out late in the day. My friend told me once that I "follow the sun". I was born a morning girl, and I am hardly functional once the sun has gone down. There are exceptions, please know. And that spontaneity I mentioned? After my (3:00 PM!!!) walk the other day, I went (downtown !!!) and got a (caffeinated !!!) tea. I feel exhilerated. And a little tired.

Humbling

I pass it by every other day. En route for my tea downtown.

It sits there on the corner across the street. It blows in the breeze. And I never took a moment to appreciate it's benefits, until this afternoon.

Earlier that afternoon, I was having one of those moments, one of those days. Self-hatred, inner-turmoil--- we all know it, we know it all.

Personally, I become pressed down by a very hurtful tone.

I'm not good enough. I'm alone, and terrified I will forever be left alone.
But these feelings I feel toward myself are solely material. Nothing real--- just shallow, shallow. At least I can recognize this, I suppose.

Walking home, I passed by the tree. Gift tags crowd with the autumn leaves on the branches. I don't remember what it's named, but I'm calling it "The Gratitude Tree".... but it's filled with contributions from the community about what they are grateful for.

And facing me directly was this message, or perhaps more accurately, this reminder:



Citrusy Rain

I had to remind myself this morning that we've already had our first rain of the Fall season just last Sunday. That was something to get excited about.

And now! Pretty, pretty oranges at the store. Pretty, pretty oranges next to the pretty, pretty pumpkins. They're just so lovely and I wait every year for them to make their appearance.
They're telling us that it's going to be windy and rainy this weekend, and I'm looking forward to it.

So begins this splendid season--- chilly mornings and afternoons with citrusy rain.

Exfoliate

Why, I ask, did I have to leave off on such a dark note?
It just seems to make things that much more difficult to start with... It seems unnatural to just pick up and keep going. There's a delicacy in such public journaling (and this and that) which I don't quite have the hang of.

But I have returned from my month in Hawaii. No regrets. (In the grand scheme of things.)
And I'm very well alive. I seem to have acquired the taste for it. Life, I mean. And that new outlook is inspiring and encouraging.

But simultaneously, I'm in a funk. I'm in a skin that doesn't feel like mine own.
I've got a new mantra. I have a few, of course. I have my mantra for yoga nidra. I have my mantra for my insomnia at 1:30, too. But I have a new mantra--- I think I'll deem it my Midday Mantra.

Exfoliate, Exfoliate.
It runs across my mind when I wash my face at dawn and dusk. When I rinse my veg for lunch. When I rub my hands on my limbs during my walks, the cool air against my skin.

Exfoliate, Exfoliate.
It's like that sweeping practiced in Reiki that my mother taught me. Cleanse, Breathe, and live that white light.

Happy Autumnal Equinox.

Last Week

It's been raining a lot more as of late in Kealia and Kapa'a. It has been wet and hot. The humidity doesn't do much for my hair, let me tell you. And my attitude? I'm a little bitter.

I feel like this journal is turning out to be a whiny, complaining-all-the-time, self-pitying, log of thoughts; that is not what I wanted to achieve through this. But in case I haven't shared before, I miss my other life. I miss the cities, the controlled climates, and all the comforts that come with home. I'm so thankful that I still have a place there. (I'm thankful that I have a place here as well, but I'm throwing in the soggy, sandy, towel and calling an end to it.)

My energy has been rather low these days; I try my best to be out doing something (always) so as to avoid from (always) being homesick. I go to the beach. I go walking. And I take the bus quite a bit. But even the bus is proving to be a little less exciting. It's fine, but sometimes it's a little late, and my fondness for it decreases when it leaves me waiting in the rain on the east side. And when I get on and sit down in a seat that is a little too warm and smells too much like piss... it's just not as romantic as I once saw it before.

And the beach. I like the water. But I grow tired and bored easily. I like sitting on the beach and watching people pass by, but the sun makes me cranky and rather unpleasant. It's a bind. So I feel like it's the idea of the beach that is most enticing and pleasing to me. People tell me that this tan will fade, and I take a lot of comfort in that.

I don't have internet at the shack anymore. (So I'm spending some quality time at Starbucks. There's a regular here, and he has fancier earphones than what I have. I'm blowing out my eardrums at volume level 43 and I can still hear the Starbucks radio playing overhead. Can I complain about that too?) So when I am at the shack, I'm actually finishing books, and in record time. I'm also hearing things that I'd rather not hear.

My sweltering bedroom sits on a hill. On that hill, there live countless chickens and roosters. Though now I can say that there are four or five less living down under. A majority of those chickens were taken away by an aquaintance of my grandfather's. Although, I do assume that one of those five was for dindin in the big house that night, for I was paralyzed as I sat there hearing the frantic calls and flailing and flapping of a chicken outside of that bedroom window. And then it was still.

And then it rained.

Ramblin'

I'm away. I'm (physically) away from my mother's touch. She's just a little beyond the horizon and I can't see her yet. But I'm getting closer.

And to think that I've had "Across the Borderline" in my head everywhere I've gone today. Everything for a reason.

I reflect on my time here every morning, noon, and night. And the days that I appreciate the most are the ones that were the most challenging. I appreciate them because of the growth that they so generously gave me. And I owe my mother everything for this time away from home. And I owe her so much more for bringing me home.

I feel like this is closing the chapter, but I need to clarify that I'm not quite done yet. But I have a date, and it just feels real. I am a definite person. I like to have a container. I don't quite have that here... away.

But I want to take this evening to thank my Moma for giving me everything that she has. She has given me everything during this experience. And I thank the heavens for what she's done for me. Her words. Her wisdom. I wish I had her strength.

I'm keeping everything so close to my heart. I haven't taken my Aunt Bobby's gold bangle off of my wrist since the very early morning that I left home, and that cry just swelled up inside of me when I looked into my momma's eyes saying goodbye.

But now I'm here. And time keeps going by. Nights set, mornings dawn, and I'm still here. I'm making it through, and soon I will be in another time, another place. And I will be with my Moma.

In Koke'e Today

We drove the $20-a-day rental car (complete with "engine gremlins") all the way up past Waimea Canyon to Koke'e.
We did a hike up the Pihea Trail to peek over the Kalalau Valley.

The beginning was the most perilous for me; the ground was dry and steep, and my foot would slightly slip while I made my way down. I received much positive reinforcement from my peers. A man smiled and said to me, "what a trooper." Another woman, on the way back, cheered me on and complimented my balancing efforts on the flaky ground. They were kind.

The pictures don't show the vibrant colors that we saw down below. The water was the prettiest agate blue, and it looked so still. I loved the way the sun shone down on the mountains, too. Clouds created a pattern of dark and light. It was a rewarding view.