Changing Room~

It has been one month now since I have returned home from what most have dubbed my “journey round the world”. It is an eerie feeling to return home after being gone…to purpose oneself towards reassimilation---towards reintegration into what is actually YOUR world. It feels strange. It feels surreal. And (of course, in any transitional process I seem to encounter of late) it feels SCARY.

I find myself pushing; rushing towards an idealistic return of yesterday’s sentiments, cherished friendships, and familiar feelings—when in reality, I wonder if I mightn’t just relax and receive a welcoming today? Yes, I know, I think too much….and I might also * perhaps * analyze things to death, or at least until there is no outwardly visible semblance of breath left within my imagination’s mind *it having been running wild all day most likely *. However, with thought comes contemplation….and, hopefully, such contemplation creates change.

Change. I shudder at the mere word. Shivers run down my spine at the thought of the unkown arriving at my doorstep—uninvited—unannounced—and most assuredly unfamiliar to my acquaintance. Most of my life, this is how I have viewed change. A scary, unwelcome visitor crashing in (uninvited I might add) upon my peaceful, domestic bliss—disrupting my everyday routine—and in doing so, rocking my little boat as it was merrily rowing along life’s (predictable) dreaminess.

Since I have been home, and have found it to be (although not necessarily tangibly changed) different than what I had maybe expected to see, feel, and even “be”—I am attempting to approach this whole idea of change with (if not a warm, fuzzy welcome) at least a reception not including a necklace of garlic, or a silver crucifix.

I came home early. I had had enough of world traveling and foreign seeking. It is good to be home. I do not desire to be anywhere else in the world but here. Yet, in my heart, there is something I cannot quite place. A feeling. Not regret, no, definitely not that. Not quite resignation (for I am too happy to be here for that description to hold true).

Restlessness? Ah, yes. That must be it. Restless with home? No. Restless with myself? My life? My circumstances? –A startling, first-time-ever answer of “NOPE!” shocks even me to utter—but no. I know it to be a restlessness WITHIN the change. DURING the change. Minutes, to days, to weeks, to one month now….of transition. Today, as each day before, I am pursuing the peace within the process.

Most days, like today, this peace finds me--holds my shaking hands, and quiets my quivering heart.

Other days, it seems to shun me, and I am left feeling cold, unsteady and unsure.

Every day, I know I will be a part of this process whether I like it or not…so today (as I pray each day to come) I choose to engage…to face forward…to stand rather than cower…and to trust…understanding as I do now, that peace is not always palpable~

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~

Word(s)! *to your mother, your sister, your grandpappy...whomever*...

It is the New Year. The time of resolutions, new beginnings and hopefulness for the future. I've discovered that (as I have been asked for the umpteenth time what my New Year's resolutions are) I tend to find this time of year somewhat ridiculous and tedious. I think mainly it is because *I will speak only for myself here* there are such overwhelming expectations connected to this "holiday" of ours. I almost feel like I am being lassoed with my own personal albatross...a Frankenstein of my own creation...rebirthed (or re-invented?) each and every year.

This morning, I am awake early and thinking of an amazing conversation I had with a co-worker just yesterday. What beautiful truths and illuminating insights can spring forth from such simple interchanges~ My co-worker and I were talking as I came into work about how our New Year was going, etc... She was making a comment about my hair *I most recently whacked it all almost entirely off...I remind myself presently of a baby bird with its newborn downy fuzz* She said that she liked it...and that I can always grow it out...but that for this season of my life I can "be a pixie"....and then later when it grows I can "be something else." I got to thinking about this, and for some reason, I was really bothered by it. Not bothered by my co-worker...but more about *again* the semantics of it all. I wanted to say to her, "What if I just want to 'be' ME?" Long hair, short hair...whatever...

Later in the day, I approached another co-worker and was talking with her...she was asking about my hair *are you sensing it is a big change, yet?* and the reasonings behind it....whether it was for New Year's, or if I just needed a change, etc... and I began explaining (as much as I even knew!) my "why's". I talked about simplification, seeking lightness, being unencumbered *yes, still talking about hair*...and mid-sentence I realized I did it because I COULD. And I didn't even need a damn reason why! Randomly, I immediately thought about my return to veganism...nine years strong before. I told her how I really missed sushi *random* and she said, "Oh, well you can switch back and forth between being a vegetarian, and then being a vegan, and even a carnivore Andy"...and again, I thought with rising panic and frustration..."WHAT IF I JUST 'BE' ME???" and eat...FOOD? Earth shattering profound logic, I tell you~

I then just opened up like a floodgate...all these truths coming through...we talked about health, and resolutions people make to go on diets and fitness plans and "stopping this or that" and "beginning these things." "Becoming" thinner, better (or in Hawaii we say "mo' bettah"), faster, richer,--MORE....LESS....it is exhausting to even think about.

This year I have no resolutions...not one stinkin' one. Well, maybe just one...I will not focus on making myself anything this year--not better--not stronger--not wiser. I will simply be. I will "be" good....and because of this, I will "be good."

So much can be said with one pair of scissors...one tube of goo~

Change.

Forward Motion.

Wandering Feet.

The sense that something--ANYTHING--is not stagnating in life..

These are the things that I was thinking of as I brought out the scissors today. (And the red red RED dye). For some reason (no, this will not surprise those of you who know me well!) during times of change or otherwise emotional/ milestone seasons/ chapters in my life, I change my hair. Yes, you heard me...my HAIR.

Sometimes I have gone softer...a brown--gentle and unassuming--gently grazing my shoulders. It was a season of steady practicality...the university years of study and diligence...the LU code among many others was strictly adhered to...brown seemed fitting...neautral...earthy.

Then there was the brazen blonde phase....hello Los Angeles...bring it on! Bright and shining; a new chapter filled with possibilities, and why the heck not go for a brilliant and bold change?Ante up, awaken to new possibilities and broader horizons--lighten up (quite literally)...and, yes, we are still (sort of) talking about hair...

So, the long locks of childhood...those sweet, sturdy braids...were soon shorn for the sake of style...something more grown up...sophisticated...sleek. It was necessary (of course). Then, once the separation from childhood seemed sufficiently solidified...the lustrous locks were reinstated; once again given free reign. A restoration of sorts....for a time...only to then be whacked off in a lop of liberation...a claiming of my freedom to choose...*yes, about my hair*

Short signified simple. Long lent itself to a portrait of femininity and grace. Yet there were exceptions in my mind (there always are, aren't there?) Short has also meant strong and independent. Long also harkening to times of healing and wholeness after a shorn winter--although the shorn winter stood for freedom from the old dead locks of summer that had grown heavy and cumbersome--too difficult to manage. (Hair...yes?)

So much can be said with one pair of scissors...one tube of goo.

Tonight the mirror reflects a radiant, redheaded wanderer. Short and touseled...quite messy in fact...the image staring back seems jarring at first. The dead ends have been cut out...the length is lessened...weight has been lifted. Simplicity reigns...yet not without cost...for she will miss the beautiful braids, the cascade of curls tumbling down her back. Stark, blunt, razored edges abruptly end...refusing to caress her shoulders. They demand to stand alone, independent and free. The almost violent vibrancy of the red...is shocking enough....bold enough...to keep her awake-- and make her feel alive...and life, to her, is more important than anything else...( yes, even hair)~