Impromptu STAPH Meeting~

I have a STAPH infection. It is gross. * Whines * However, as I am sitting here in my mandatory “rest-mode,” I am seeing that this whole situation has given me great fodder for ye olde blog…as well as many lessons learned…always, it seems….lessons learned.

The day began as normal as possible here on the North Shore. The game plan for the day was to spend the day packing, so I set to it. My friend, (who has requested to remain nameless) so we will call him “Rainbows” J was supposed to come help me move. Once he arrived, it was certain that I was NOT doing anything other than heading straight to the ho-po to be checked out. At first, I shied away from this plan…I didn’t want to inconvenience anyone…”Rainbows” taught me my first lesson of the night….to accept help and love from others. Always a tough one for us, yes?

First, we made a stop that Rainbows insisted on….a visit to his friend who is a nurse so that she could take a look at, and clean, my lesions. I was VERY MUCH opposed to this! I, a vain woman, was in no way feeling the desire to meet ANY unknown new friend with gaping, oozing sores on my face. * No thank you, sir! * But, Rainbows won out (as he often does in our friendship!) and on we went.

We got to Nellie’s house and I immediately felt at home…lesions be damned! because these were some amazing people who just wanted to help. Nellie’s companion graciously opened the door wide, and before I could even get out the apology for monopolizing their Saturday night, he lifted his hand in a wave of welcome…all the while placing the kettle on the stove…preparing the way for blessed tea and sympathy. Blessed soul~

I followed Nellie into the bathroom and, as she was dressing my sores, we got to talking about her giving up her Saturday night…I thanked her again. She looked at me kind of strangely for a second, and then gave me the biggest hug, reminding me of the truth in her heart that, according to her, it was SHE that needed ME—SHE that "needed to be needed"). She went on to tell me a bit about her, and what she has been going through in her life lately…a dry spell if you will. I shared with her how I believe in seasons of life…encouraging her that she is simply in her winter season…and that Spring indeed, must be coming. Such hope fills me at that forward-thinking thought!…this moment too will pass~

The night continued on: the dressing of my wounds, the scraping of my face, the angry bleeding, the humiliating vulnerability, and the hurting. After all is said and done, Nellie moves to clean me up and send me on my way….she apologetically reaches for a HUGE bandage for the side of my head. "Sorry!" she says…."I know this looks not very pretty, but if you don’t mind I think it will be better” …I respond immediately with, “Girl, you do whatever you have to, I have resigned myself that this AIN’T gonna be pretty!” As we both dissolved into laughter, I look at myself in the mirror…and see our reflections—two daughters of this earth just trying to make it as best we can, encouraging one another through our winters. * And no, I WASN'T a pretty sight….but “This” was beautiful * ~

Chicken Sits~

I have been thinking of the role of parenting often lately. Pretty much, wherever I look in life, it has been at the forefront of my mind. From taking joy in my closest friends’ (and family’s!) newly announced pregnancies, to both witnessing (and being a * not always welcoming * recipient of) parental “care and concern,”...it appears to flank me on all sides. J

I am at that magical age in life (actually, the more I think of it…when are we NOT?) when parents (and all other surrounding parties/ friends/ loved ones) feel the need to offer “help” and guidance in my “finding my way” in life. Whether it be relationship advice, financial planning tips, career guidance, or even the occasional * gasp * “intimacy admonishments”—our parents/ loved ones are always waiting and ready to pounce * ahem *--“gently” proffer their priceless pearls of wisdom~

Protection is one of the main themes I see flowing like a golden thread in the universal cosmic connection that people (parents especially) all share with one another in relating to their loved ones. Yes, protection—that dogged desire to tenaciously guard those we love from any and all possible and unknown threats…even when they have not asked for it…and quite often when they altogether vehemently oppose it!

A chance encounter that I had the blessing of happening upon strikes a vivid picture and analogy for this concept in my mind. About a week ago, I had traveled across the island to drop off a friend at his house. He lives out in the country, and as I rode up and parked in the driveway, I noticed in the corner of my view a mother hen surrounded by a cackle of baby chicks.

He had to go inside to pick up a few things, and I settled in to wait for him. As I waited, I kept my eye on the small processional of poultry that was making their way towards my vehicle. Remembering I had my camera in my backpack, I unbuckled my seatbelt to reach for it. At that moment, the mother, upon hearing the click, frantically placed herself in between my car and her babies…one by one, she clamored to collect her offspring beneath the folds of her feathers. The babies seemed mostly annoyed and frustrated with her antics. Some even appeared frightened by the vehemence in the execution of her protective instincts. The mother would chase and scoop, hem and holler…and then actually SIT on top of the chicks as she bore them to her breast. Try as they might to escape, the mother was dogged in her efforts and eventually grappled them all, managing to cover them within the safe confines of her person completely. As the drama unfolded, I was just taking it all in—realizing how much we have in common…poultry and people~

As I continued to watch, I ran the gamut of emotions. I was at once humored, saddened, angered, puzzled, and enlightened. I FELT and empathized with the baby chickens…the frustration, the oppression, the confinement (they were being SMOTHERED by gosh!) I know all too well that desperate desire to run away and just be FREE! (I also know what it feels like to sense someone sitting (or sh**tng!) on you)…not good….not good at all~

To be fair, however, I also sensed and empathized with the mother hen’s situation…she perceived danger and was attempting to do everything in her power to keep her babies safe. Her desire to nurture, to protect at all costs, to have her children’s best at heart and pursue that best violently…courageously….FIERCELY even—is breathtakingly beautiful and awe-inspiring to me.

My companion returned and I regretfully started the ignition, pulling into reverse. As I backed the car away, I strained to watch the little family as long as I could.

The last I was able to see, the bittersweet struggle still ensued…

Labels~

Labels. They share information. They indicate things—things like how much something costs (or better yet, how much we paid for it). Sometimes they provide the consumer with further instructions or directions as to how to proceed with the product to which the label is attached.

For instance, in a nutrition label…the 8 MILLION grams of caffeine in my serving of soda * may * suggest to me, ever so gently, that I might not need TWO of them…that is, if I ever want to see the back of my eyelids again. Similarly, the label placed on the pack of cigarettes purchased at the corner market serves as a disclaimer, warning those that may not be aware, that there are health risks involved in the usage of the product they are about to buy. Clothing labels are particularly intriguing to me, I must admit. Designer jeans and outfits apparently have labels whose value (yes, those teeny, tiny, few small square inches of fabric) apparently surpass the monetary worth of the entire material mass to which they adhere. At least in America the BEAUTIFUL~

Labels posted on the back of ANYTHING purchased from Home Depot or Radio Shack (yes, and any of those other stores that sell products that * gasp * expect us to put something together) …I will pause a moment to allow a collective group shared moment—a celebration and awareness of the unity brought upon us as we think of how we all share that foreshadowed frustration when the label “Assembly Required” is read….* shared shudder *~

As well as products, I am realizing more and more how “labels” are also assigned to people. Sometimes the individuals attach themselves with a certain branding—sports stars crown themselves with glorious nicknames and monikers, announcing their awesomeness to all. Couples are known to the rest of the world as, “married” “divorced” “engaged” “courting” “separated” “dating” “talking” “texting,” or “INSERT OTHER CREATIVE DESCRIPTION OF ATTRACTION HERE_______.” * Oh, the drama—the angst!…and yes, such a large spectrum to measure the sliding scale(s) of togetherness *~

We have labels indicating (or so it may seem) who we are…and by this, I mean, our professions…doctors, lawyers, policemen, teachers, mothers. Our preference of partners also assigns us a tag—gay, homosexual, heterosexual, bi-sexual * and for one particular season of my life, I vaguely recall believing that ASEXUAL should be among these as well…) yeah…some of you know what I’m talkin’ bout~

As I ponder the concept of labels...thinking of my own and those I see most closely surrounding me, I often ask if they are necessarily good or bad. Or does it depend on the context(s) or connotation(s) of the label(s)? I am unsure as of yet as to my exact answer, even…I am pondering. But I am intrigued nonetheless…and I do believe it is a question worthy of seeking answer(s).

Oh labels! How I am fascinated by all that you say…but more, even, perhaps by what you do not~

The Power Of One~

Yesterday. My morning. I rose with the sun, whose radiant rays found me with a hopeful heart. The birds were chirping. A soft breeze skipped across the North Shore. Not a cloud could be seen for miles. I was fully present in this moment and knew that I had a delightful plan for the day just waiting to unfold.

I had called my friend Lam, and we giddily arranged to meet for a picnic in Ala Moana park on his lunchbreak….he even promised it would be complete with my favorite…sushi J Yes, this day was going to be fantastic. Sitting on the beach. Catching up with one of my favorite friends. Being soothed by the soft ebb and flow of the Waikiki waves. Yep…everything was coming up roses~

* Cue the thorn(s) *....

Before it was time to meet Lam, I had several errands to run…all disappointingly indoors—one was even located at what I have non-lovingly dubbed as the dreaded “Ala Moana Monster Mall.” Each time I frequent this establishment, (which I attempt to keep at a frequency less than * or at least equal to * the number of times teenaged kids WILLINGLY discuss "the Birds and The Bees" with their parental units), I have noticed that I most often leave the premises with at least a slight twitch, or a nervous tremor. I just can’t wait to get back to my car and chant my Stuart Smalley-esque affirmations…* most often as I rock to and fro in the drivers seat * “I am me…and I am okay!” J Yes folks, here at the Monster Mall is where it’s all happening…frenzied and frantic consumerism at its finest.

As I was running around, being bumped and jostled….careening into bony elbows, and doing my best to avoid the little midget children zigzagging haphazardly to and fro underfoot, I kept myself sane by reminding my heart that in T-minus two hours I would be on a beautiful beach with my bestie. One more deep breath, and on we go! Finally, after all errands were completed, and I feel as if I have run the Honolulu marathon as a three-legged race * my partner being a 400 pound, blind man with asthma ,* --the time for my perfect picnic had arrived! Oh joy!

With a skip in my step, and a sparkle in my spirit, I swing wide the sliding glass door opening into the parking lot. And what, I ask, is awaiting to greet me? RAIN. Dun Dun Dun! L I was crestfallen. My idyllic day is ruined….rained out…woe is me~

Eeyore, embodied in human form, I reach for my phone. As the grey storm cloud looms over above me, I type my companion a text, announcing our day’s doom. The death sentence for our perfect picnic contained one single word of depressing finality--: RAINING.

The instantaneous response I received back contained also one word--: RAINBOWS.

Awakening Awareness~

Lam saves ONE full day. With just ONE word….and ONE different pair of eyes~

Praised be such beloved souls who surround us in life…who see the scattered light that breaks through....and who choose to focus on all the beauty that is promises~

Life is Like a Breath (of Wind?)~

Lately I have been blessed to have a little more time to really take advantage of all that my Hawaiian island home has to offer as far as outdoor adventures go. Whether it be hiking, swimming, biking, tennis, kayaking, or “surfing,” * and yes, I DID place surfing in quotation marks on purpose! * …one would be hard-pressed to find me anywhere other than enjoying one of these pono-producing pastimes.

As I have a slightly * ahem * low tolerance for the routinely mundane, monotonous things of this life …you know…like laundry, going to the grocery store, changing the oil in my car, taking out the trash, etc…it is probably not surprising that I like to “mix it up” in regards to the specific exercise that I choose to incorporate into my daily routine. For example, a ridge-roaming hike will be followed the next day by a blissful bike ride to my favorite seaside spot. The successive days three and four will include some sort of hand-eye coordination sport such as tennis, “surfing,” * yep! Still got ‘em folks! *… or volleyball (I just so happen to know of a particular fire station that has a rousing game every Sunday that I tend to barge in upon on a regular basis J ). This variety of options is one of the main reasons I chose to make Hawaii my home in the first place. It suits this restless, adventure-seeking, rambling rose quite well.

This past week in particular, when going about my daily excursions, I have noticed one main recurring theme/ idea that has been marinating in my mind. The concept of wind—specifically of how dramatically different I perceive this natural phenomenon as becoming, when placed within the context of each separate category of leisure that I happen to be participating in at that specific time.

When I think about it, it really is amazing the dramatic metamorphosis wind undergoes * in my mind at least * when merely transferred between sports. For instance, when I am biking, and the wind is at my back…I feel alive—bada**!—like nothing in the world can stop me!—propelled forward—Superman bullet-esque! HOWEVER, when the wind is against me…I sense the whole world is against me. I feel dead—simply “like” A**!—defeated, beaten down, bullied backwards—like I have been SHOT by the speeding bullet. Quite a difference to say the least~

While hiking, as I ascend rocky ledges, I feel, not resistance, but rather refreshment being offered to me by the rustling wind. Along my way, it stirs a breathy breeze—one that alights upon my brow, bringing me comfort and beckoning me forward—upward on my path. The summit supplies great gusts, swirling and whipping my hair…reminding me of how small I am, and how big the beautiful sky and earth dancing around me, are in comparison. I am engulfed by the wind on my hikes—they trap me in time—awaken to me how very little of it I have left—remind me how very much of it I have already wasted—and serve to open my heart to the priceless value given to that which remains~

Tennis belongs to the “anti-wind camp” as well. As one tries to manipulate the bouncy yellow ball—relegating it to the confines of the small white boxes * boxes, I might add, which appear more miniscule in proportion to the skill of each particular player, it seems, most days *…the wind can only serve to frustrate, tamper with and tyrannize all the Andre Agassis of the world~

Swimming seems to be one of the only wind-neutral sports in which I participate. When I am swimming, I am surrounded by silence. This impenetrable peace and quiet of my nautical bubble represents pure bliss to me. Ensconced within the ocean—the wind is dead to me…the world is dead to me…but I, I am alive—more alive than I have ever been—or at least this is how it feels. The wind has no jurisdiction here in my harmonious haven. No sound…no interference…nothingness…embraced—enveloped—inside a world all my own—I swim in my isolation tank—alone in my thoughts—unaffected by all outside forces, sights, sounds, or even beings. No wind can touch me here. I am encapsulated in isolation, surrounded by safety~

The list could go on and on….but ponopeople, you get the idea…wind is a powerful “force to be reckoned with”…. OR IS IT? I have begun today to ask myself the question, “What if it is just a force…*period*?”~

Whether it be coming directly towards me, blowing benignly upon my back, accompanying me up the face of a mountain, shifting and surging as I am sent scrambling on a clay court, or even if it is not present at all…wind is simply that— WIND. Not hostile by nature, wind is no respecter of persons. It has no agenda or plot for vengeance to reek upon any particular individual as far as I am aware. When the wind howls and crosses my path, causing me to exert more effort, or when it is helping me along my way with ease, or even as it is forcing me to realize that my stratagem on the court is not enough of a match for it to “save my game”—I have to remind myself that * no matter how it FEELS, * this appearance/ presence of wind is not a personal affront. It is not vexed by some grievance unbeknown to me. I have not committed some sin to bring about its fury. * It’s Just Wind *…a natural occurrence coming in cycles, and stages, and not necessarily with warning.

Wind and Life do not seem to be that different to me. This idea is what has filled my heart and mind most today. Life—coming in seasons—seasons of sadness or pain, when we feel hostility—is also nothing personal—no punishment for indiscretion here—simply a season. In seasons of happiness—when we feel overwhelmed by joy—not particularly arriving in our midst due to some divine or deserving act—simply a season. Seasons of numbness, when we feel nothing—not because we have done something (or even nothing?)—is, still…simply a season.

There are deaths, there are births, there are moments of overwhelming joy…only to be followed by what seem like hours of such sadness that the weight of them are crushing.

LIFE if like this~

Wind is like this~

Life is like Wind~

Perfect Perspective~

Weddings. Oh, yes, a wedding! That once in a lifetime event (one hopes at least) that every young girl dreams about her entire life…that climax to all teenage angst-ridden romantic longings of finding “the one!” The fairytale ending; The beginning of a new and exciting chapter in life; A tangible initiation into adulthood; A ceremony symbolizing newness, and the offering of hope to a couple embarking towards a bright future together. A W-E-D-D-I-N-G! Let us all please pause for one collective romantic ……* breathy sigh * (Were your eyes lifted heavenward, your heart all aflutter, and your hands clasped together as well? ….Kudos to you, then)~

Yes, weddings are a big deal. And at these weddings, most expect a beautiful and dramatic cake as one centerpiece of the event. This past week, yours truly was commissioned by a dear friend, for help in creating one of these said confections. And when I say “creating”…I really mean “constructing”…for this cake morphed into one monster mo’ fo! Literally seeming to come alive, (in the sense that it GREW, and GREW, and GREW in epic proportions, as we toiled over its triple-layered tiers!), by the time our little cake-monster fully developed into adulthood, I was quite ready for it to leave its nest of birth and fly far, far, far away…oh, very far…*at least until I had a full nights’ sleep!* …then maybe I would have more feeling of love for my sugared-spawn~ And that’s a big maybe…

Okay, maybe I jest at how stressful this endeavor was for my colleagues and me. And maybe, * I mean we are talking about me! * I may have embellished a few details to make your heart twinge ever so slightly more deeply. Guilty as charged J However, the fact does remain that we were, indeed, working under an immense amount of pressure in regards to being the bearers of the bride’s one and only wedding cake. There were to be pictures (insane amounts at that)…so many, in fact, that by the end of the evening the beautiful and blushing bride will feel as if her face is about to melt off, --her cheeks, most noticeably, will ache for want of rest…the ceaseless barrages of “And, SMILE!” bounding at her all evening from the frenzy of well-wishing photographers * professional and otherwise * ~ As well as pictures, there was to be the absolute adoration of the attendees to attain, * as well as the possible scorn and snobbery of the what I call the “Gucci-guests” to avoid * Yes, it was, indeed still a certified stress-inducing undertaking.

As we went through the process of making the cake, I realized intermittently that I would go through peaks and valleys of my emotional mountain. * What a crazy a** hike that is most days, my friends... and NOT one for the faint of heart, I assure you! * As we laid out the initial blueprint of the cake construction, I felt my heart starting to beat slightly faster…that old familiar bead of sweat began tickling and teasing my brow, in hopes I would let it escape down my cheek….yes, the two telltale buddies that herald the arrival of Andy’s overwhelm. * Valley one * I noticed this and staved off the approaching angst by being proactive and suggesting a list be made…order this chaos, yes please…haha, bastard buddies..you lose, and my beloved (oh how beloved!) control has been restored to the scene! * Peak one* Such continued the day, (peak to valley to peak) for a marathon stretch of well over twelve hours. After having painstakingly rolled fondant, measured layers, stacked and sealed seams, fluted flowers, piped icing, and aesthetically adorning all, (and, of course, making sure it was, indeed, colored to match) my friends and I were so exhausted. Applying the finishing touches, we surveyed our creation.

My eyes immediately went to the * what I know must be blatently obvious! * one stripe that was slightly off center. My friend Sharon was crouched closely to the bottom layer, convinced that the entire cake was crooked. “Was that flower supposed to be there?” “Did the bride want beads lining the edge, or would she hate these?” “Oh my Gawd! Is that a crack in the fondant?” Yes, I warned you the entire process had not entirely been a walk in the park! Our perfectionistic perusal continued as we microscopically went over the surface of the cake. Enter the third helper, BJ, who took one look from across the room and exclaimed with such affirmation and excitement: “AWESOME JOB GUYS! Looks great! ” I stopped, Sharon stopped…we looked at each other…we looked at BJ, weighing his intentions * yep, pure *.... and then we stepped back and took a second look.

What a beautiful cake it was--Made with love and the best intentions…filled with sweetness and infused with such hopes and blessings to a couple beginning their new life together. This cake, was indeed, perfect~

Isolation, Preparation, Self-Preservation~

This past month, ever since I found I would be leaving my home, friends, and what has now become my Ohana (family), I have been somewhat of an emotional roller coaster. Granted, no one would have known this by simply looking at me. But, rather, I know myself, and am able to clearly see the signs that show my stirred state of mind.

I recognize it in the small things, seemingly insignificant to most, yet for me, they are classic signposts that I am “going through a season”. This season, what I see as yet one more transition, is riddled with change, yes THAT DREADED CHANGE * shudder *.

I realized yesterday that my life here I am so happy with (and in). Some days everything within me is gravitating to that “Don’t rock the boat” mentality. “Just stay Andy Beth….you love your little life here!” I will chant this mantra over myself, and then stop and remember this amazing opportunity and blessing that has been laid before me by God…this challenge, if you will * for He KNOWS it is a huge obstacle of fear to overcome for this stability loving soul! * I often feel that He has given me specifically this option in life because it involves risk…and trust…and spontanaiety…all of which now don’t be shocked too much I NEVER would have chosen of my own freewill and accord. Really. Don’t get me wrong, I love trying new things…but I PLAN to try new things, and I PLAN on how I will go about them, and I THINK AHEAD of all the outcomes and make all arrangements according to how I am confident * based on my precise ahem calculations * that things will inevitably turn out exactly as PLANNED *tied pristinely with a pretty pink color-coordinated bow, thank you *

What struck me most with this upcoming season of change is thinking about how very much of my home I will be missing here. The little things…like daily coffee with my good friend Lamm, the sunset swims with my girls, evening bonfires on the beach with the funniest and over-the-top jokesters I have ever met, sunlit bike rides that make me feel more alive everyday, buying fresh honey from heaven and calming kava from the local man in his roadside stand, or even going to the market and “talking story” with my favorite cashier.

My first reaction to this present predicament is a defense mechanism I have often used in the past…isolation. In my oh so strange mind, I somehow believe that if I simply stay to myself these last few weeks, and train my heart to “not need anyone”… and become that lone wolf…then I will be more “ready,” or that it will make things better and easier to tear myself away when the time for departure comes. I noticed myself beginning these patterns earlier this week…politely refusing invitations to parties, opting to do yoga at home versus attending my favorite beachside class, embarking on early morning solo hikes and bike rides versus joining my buddies who have a pretty amazing little group going most days, or even shyly eschewing beautiful souls who desire to take me out * in the convoluted notion that this will somehow make me less lonely “in the long run, of course” *

This week I tangibly sensed my masochistic insanity. In my seeking of self-preservation, I was drying up from lack of fellowship and love like a raisin left out to bake in the sun. I knew I had to stop this negative pattern of being paralyzed by fear…and I also knew I would have to do it afraid. So, rather than pull away from these relationships and invitations in my life, I am striving to sprint towards them as if my life depends on it (for in actuality, I am realizing it does).

This past week was spent in complete community and fellowship. I have been blessed to experience the intimacy of friendship and love that I have only dreamed of, and read about, in favorite books…agape love such as that which was found in the apostle Paul’s Corinthian Community--that realistic, tangible love and mutual concern that Hollywood movies find boring and non-screen worthy, yes…that GOOD stuff of the everyday.

I used to fear this type of closeness. I was a master at placing walls—realizing that to be so open and known, is to be made vulnerable—and vulnerability to me, was dangerous. I still see the "danger,"-- yet I am now understanding that there is such breathtaking beauty in risk….and unfettered freedom to be found in offering oneself up to the amazing possibilities of all things yet known~