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.



Island Eyes

I was in a coffee shop the other day and had a nice little chat with the gentleman in line behind me. He really got to know me.

I mentioned that I was born on Kauai.

"I would have guessed that!" He replied. "You have those island eyes."

Precious

I went into an antique store on one of my trips to Hanalei one day. There was a box of old postcards. There were cards from as far back as the early, early 1900s through the 1950s. Some were blank, and some were addressed to beloved family members or lovers.

I gently flipped through them, sometimes reading the penciled notes.

They were shuffled and in disorder. But out of the hundreds that were in the box, I seemed to always stop and read a postcard from the same man to his wife in New York. (I wish I could remember his name...)

They were such attractive photographs capturing the vintage Hawaiiana that must have surrounded him in the 1940s. (My best guess is that this man was a soldier stationed here?)
There was a postcard of King Kamehameha on Lei Day, one of workers with bananas, and cards of waterfalls, mountains, and the beaches.

On every single one of the dozen of postcards he wrote, solely, "I Love You Precious."

These notes extended from 1942 to 1943, and who knows how many more this man had sent out, or his wife may have received.

I almost bought one or two, just for the sake of having a piece of such tender history, but I didn't.
They weren't meant for me.

Solo Wednesday

I like Wednesdays here the best so far. They have a lovely farmer's market in a lovely little plaza on the best side of the island. I took the bus to Poipu at 1:00. While I waited to the farmer's to roll in, I sat and felt the breeze. Shopped in some local boutiques, and had a very expensive crudite platter on the patio of a restaurant.

I bought my papaya (I've eaten all of my grandmother's ripe ones) and limes, and headed for the bus stop at the Old Kukui'ula Store.

I was invited to come and sit in the shade at the travel kiosk that some older gentlemen ran. Thanks Doug and Nameless John for the shade and the music. I offered them a papaya as my thanks, but Nameless John smiled and shook his head.

I'll be headed for the beach Friday.

Distraction

I miss home. And I've been tired. And when I am tired, things become much more difficult to cope with. But the beach helps. So do friends.

The Lawai International Center

I've been tagging along with some wonderful aquaintances; They've taken me up and down the island and I am eternally grateful. They've shown me that it's possible to take things as they come, and though I may have to breathe a little deeper from time to time, I can still survive through it. And I have all the more appreciation for where I am, and who I am, because of the beauty of what I've been shown, and who I am with to share the day with.

That's all for now. There is a lot to share, but I'm just going to save that all for another day.

Chance

It's pretty amazing what passes through in such a short span of time.

I'm settin' at the bus stop today, and not five minutes after I sit down, a man comes and pulls up to me in his car, asking if I would like a ride. I imagine that it took me no more than 20 seconds to make my final decision, and it was a hurricane of thoughts, from an eager and impulsive yes please to a terrified what? Not in your life, guy.

I politely declined his offer. Not a second after he left, I wanted to wave him down. Wait! Changed my mind! I trust you! Take me to the lighthouse!

Apparently, the Kauai Bus does not follow a regular schedule on weekends. I sat from 7:50 AM to 9:21 AM waiting for a bus to Hanalei. I really wanted a ride from that guy. But more than that, I really hoped that he wouldn't come back down the highway. Because he would either ask me, "Now do you want a ride???" or just pass me by, laughing. Either way, I think it would be embarrassing.

And that was it. I missed my chance. I don't have anymore.

Of course, I hope I'm wrong. Hey universe- do what you do so well. Work your magic.

I'm settin' in Hanalei and I call for the times for the bus. I learn that the next bus will be arriving at the Hanalei Center (which, at the time, I was not entirely sure of where that was...) at 12:15. With no other buses arriving until- I swear I heard her say- 6:15 PM. I frantically made my way to the correct bus stop. With 47 minutes to spare.

Day 3

My day today started at 6:22. Or maybe 3:30. But I went for my walk just at the end of sunrise.

I had plans to go to the South Shore. I waited in my apartment for a little time to pass by, to give time for the island to open up. I sat and waited. There was a gentle breeze blowing the [horrfically] canary-yellow curtain. I was listening to Hesitation Blues. Life is an ironic river.

I walked down to the Kealia Beach bus stop, but couldn't get on the 8:22 bus because I didn't think I had exactly two dollars for the fare. I think I waited another hour (did I really just stand there under that tree for an entire hour? Living in Island Time, I suppose.) for the next bus to Lihue. I found two dollars after Grandma drove down to give me change.

There was nothing exciting at Kukui Grove. And I spent four more hours there until I finally figured out how to get to Poipu, thank you to my friend and the operator. And thanks toothless John, anyway, for your help and good intentions. Nice guy.
Employees of the County (any county)  have never been more pleasant.

I sat on the beach with a friend. And got really burned by the sun. This is why I wear turtlenecks. Or maybe this is because I wear turtlenecks, and have minimal interaction with the sun.

We went to a Farmers Market and I bought some lovely limes and lemons and tomatoes. So beautiful. And avocados are everywhere.

The day went on and I was shown Kaleheo, along with some stunning sights. My knees buckled, my eyes watered. Holy Moses.

Exhausted, I stepped on the Kalaheo:Lihue bus. Made a friend who's from Seattle! Not really--- but he was so great.

There were so many angels on the 350 Koloa and 500 Hanalei today.

And I'm sitting at the bungalow now. I rode in four buses today. My shoulders are tender. My feet have blisters from slippers. And it's becoming a conscious effort to avoid speaking pidgin aloud. And it's only day three!



Last Friday

Thanks Moma for the lovely walk in the Avenues this evening.





Gardenias

I groomed our Gardenia today. It's tall and large, and the loveliest of things growing in our front yard. It is this and the Meyer Lemon in our back yard that I hold closest to my heart.

I don't do much gardening. I'm trying to love it; I want so badly to be unafraid of the sun and dirt. I want to be healed by the earth and inspired by the growth. So I went out this morning and attempted to deadhead the gardenia. My hands got moderately dirty and I think that I did.... an adequate job. I couldn't get to the very top, even with the dusty step ladder that I was using, and I avoided the right side almost entirely because of a spider. I was so proud of myself for being outside and got too excited in the beginning, so I when I snipped of TWO unbloomed buds in one cut, I was devastated about what I had done and slowed it down from there.

Even something so grand as this thriving Gardenia has its imperfections and needs a little help. Everything needs comfort. Everyone needs a little help to grow. Tending to this Gardenia was so honoring. I have always been a little wary of things such as this, and despite all my discomfort around the spiderwebs and soil, was able to comfort and take loving care of myself. Such growth.

The leaves of the Gardenia!

Sounds So Good

I was settin' in my car just the other day. I reached for a magazine I had on the floor of the passenger's side and turned exactly to this article. (I turned to the page reading, "The Beginner's Guide to Kauai"--- equally appropriate.)

It has been years since I've been back. It's been months since I've had my ticket. And it will be two weeks tomorrow until I step on that plane, and fly to the place where I was born.

My time is now. I really feel--- I really believe--- that I'm going to love Kauai.

Detour

I don't mean to whine, but I'm tired. Spending two nights up past my bedtime doesn't feel good on my body.

I was talking to my friend earlier this week, telling her how I went out downtown late in the afternoon (5:00pm!!!). And I really had no sense of direction either. I just needed a sketchbook from the used bookstore. It took a few hours to convince myself that it would be ok for me to go outside of the house for a bit. I'm a big girl.
And I survived every obstacle that day--- like the detour because of road construction, my car dying (again) in the parking lot, and the confrontation with my potential agoraphobia.
When I said that I had fun, but how I felt a little disorganized and frantic in the beginning of it all, she laughed. She said something to the effect of, "That is who you are. And you shouldn't feel like you need to change that."

I held that close to my heart this morning, feeling really disorganized and really frantic. I slept in past my precious hour of 6:00am. I missed my brisk walk down Vallombrosa. And I had a desire for nothing else but to have my structure and regularity back, even just for a little while longer, before I lose it again. And I'll adjust, I'll survive. But I need to recuperate first. Because that is who I am.

Beginning

This is the beginning---
I'm creating this blog for myself, mostly. Selfishly. Just a light, little journal to keep as I move along. I've got places to go, and things to do. And it's all happening--- day to day today.
And so this is only the beginning.