Vive Le Difference!

Yesterday I woke up, planning on meeting up with Ari for an early AM tennis match. Any of you who know me, know I cherish my mornings, sacrificing copious amounts of sleep, all for the sake of never missing one single, sparkling sunrise. For me, I guess, it’s the symbol of starting everything afresh, a brand new beginning of one 24 hour cycle of possibility….an open hand just waiting to be filled, and held. There is something sacred about rising while the rest of the world is still asleep…reveling in the wonder of a new day’s dawning, and simply renewing hope…intentioning goodness beneath the shadow of the sun’s warm rays bursting forth—beckoning you to come, and live. Yes, mornings are my favorite friends.

I told Ari I would meet him after the sunrise, making my way to my local coffeeshop and picking up a cup o’ joe to go. As I sat waiting, I delighted in the sole company of my thoughts, the cool breeze of the early morning, and the lulling ebb and flow of the ocean’s waves. I have realized I like alone time….I believe I need it more than others I know. In fact, at times when I find it scarce or hard to come by in my life, I find myself physically aching to just get back to that solitude, that shelter of serenity and solace, found only (for me at least) when I am truly alone, breathing and being myself. I do not worry about what my countenance looks like, no words need be spoken, and the silence is sweet, and sustains me for the times to come, when the din and clamor of the world become a cacophony almost unbearable to my senses. THIS is what makes my days…aloha subtle sunrise. I see you peeking over the horizon, and I welcome you to this day…do stay for awhile.

Filled, I make my way to Ari and we head to the tennis courts, fully prepared to beat the crap out of each other (with love, of course). I am excited, this is one of the few activities we seem to really like doing together, and otherwise we do our own things and meet up when we can…so this was going to be a rare treat. We pull up to the park, anticipation filling our hearts…only to find the courts closed for maintenance! BOOOO. I am bummed, because I know this was a small window of time I had to share with Ari before we both had to go to work and the day set into full swing. I plan on going hiking instead, and Ari decides to come along. So any of you who know me (again) will also know I very much like going hiking ALONE. I treasure the time just me versus the mountain, testing my strength and climbing, climbing, climbing…listening to that mountain…tell me what I’m made of…and what it’s all about. So for me to go with Ari was already a miracle in itself. I wondered how it would be, but was happy he wanted to share time, so off we went.

We got there and the minute we got out of the car and the trail lay open before us, I felt the adrenaline surging, the effervescent energy that always comes with being outdoors in the sunshine bubbling up within me, and I felt breathless and giddy with the thought of what joys lay ahead! I wanted to go, go, go! Woo hoo! As we set off, and were talking, I realized I was already nosing ahead, like a wild horse who’s just been bridled for the first time and isn’t sure she likes it, but still wants to have that connection with the new owner….so she submits to the temporary discomfort, trying to learn the new ways. Ari, bless his beautiful heart, felt this…and knew his peaceful pace of meandering through the wilderness (which provides him with the utmost joy) is a bit of a snoozefest for his fairy companion…who wanted to fly away fast, and free. He urged me ahead and gave me the green light to simply GO.

And I did.

I went. And ran. And reveled in the beauty. And giggled and oohed and ahhed at the wonder of it all. Free to go at my own pace, I climbed, climbed, climbed…the crisp mountain air filling my lungs. My heart beat faster and faster, and I laughed….alone on top of that towering mound of earth, I melted into the most rich and full hysterics…of happiness. And I thanked God for friends and loved ones, who know me, and allow me my "eccentricities" of individuality, and echo my exultant cry from man to woman to fairy to warrior….from milkman to lawyer to JHi and Pdizzle and Good N’ Plenty (or M&M or whatever his name is)… "Vive Le Difference.”

Dear B~

Dear B,

I must apologize if you were confused by my beehavior this last week. I did not mean to send you mixed messages. I had heard of your reputation from your godmother, and she just sang your praises. I couldn’t wait to meet you. But then I also have experienced others of your kind, and have felt the sting when things have gone awry. Forgive me, for I was afraid.

I visited you…journeyed far to your home, and all the while great anticipation filled my heart. I wanted (and still want) to learn all there is to know about you, and here was my chance. When I first heard your voice…I was mesmerized…the vibration of your lilt lulled my senses and I knew right then…you were something special. Your scent took my breath away…a rich, earthy aroma…one I have never known before….I can’t quite find a word deep or wide enough to embody the fragrance of your form. It is just…magical…it leaves me finding myself leaning forward always, on an endless search for the wind to carry the wonder of you back to me…desiring an ever-stronger scent to fly to me forever.

I listened to your voice from a distance for several moments, and I basked in the balmy, heady haven of your aromatic essence…I drank you in…but dared not come closer. I can tell you speak a different language than my own native tongue. I cannot place the origin of your homeland…or else I would run and read every book I could find, if it lead me to a translation of your truth(s). But no, you are not conversing in common English, nor do you talk in Turkish, or a romantic European dialect. Yours is an ancient tongue of old, and I long to hear it more and more....that I may speak with you fully, and understand what you would whisper in my ear. I have an inkling that this is a language I cannot study per se, and one unmarked by time or space…but rather an eternal awareness of its always being….HERE, and known... somehow. I await the whispers to make sense to me…and until they do, I will sit in stillness…coming ever closer…to hear them clear as bells. Bells ringing in my ears…buzzing through my brain….healing my heart.

Next time, I promise to come closer…I will fight the fear, put away the preconceived….and sit with you awhile~

The Art Of Beeing~

I learned the art of bee-ing today. Beekeeping that is.

Somewhere, along Oahu’s Eastern shores, a small section of land-- a hidden Hawaii garden may be found. Nestled in the shadows of the Koolau Mountains, wild integrity winds its way as a golden thread; the sweetness of the honey from its combe paling in stark comparison to the rich, wondrous satiety found in the company of fellow sojourners…come to see….simply how to be(e).

Make your way down the winding drive, surrounded on all sides by vast valley views and the looming, misty mountains of Old Hawaii *and don’t mind Mani…he is just the resident sheep…he’ll not bite. Nor allow yourself to be distracted by the strut of the rooster hoping his swagger will sway your fancy. *I must admit he is quite dashing~

Are you hungry? How about an avocado? Tiptoes now…reach for it…that one, there…yes, that’s the one! Feel its bumpy skin give a little, your thumbprint indelibly leaving its impression until you can stand it no more, slice the juicy goodness in half and devour its luscious innards. Dessert soon follows….mountain apples abound…bananas also beg to be picked and sampled. Go on, feel free~

Swing wide the gate, and enter in…welcome. Yes, this was the imperative invitation: Well, come.

And it did.

Daien, the beekeeper of beauty and grace, ushered us into this world today. A world of order, of diligence, of peaceful productivity, and an animal orb of orchestrated energy and divine design. Busyness here is beautiful, and blessed. Work is not said as if it is spelled with four letters…it is sung, and held out and continued in one elongated breath as if it were one eternal syllable.

This world’s inhabitants themselves are neither friendly nor hostile…they are simply living and working. They live and breathe…coexist…create and birth their own royalty…protect themselves from outsiders…even kill their own kind on occasion. They survive. They thrive…. And they will eventually die. They are not safe, but they are lovely. They are not unsafe, but they will sting you. They are.

They create a magical manna….a golden goodness dripping from the catacombs of their closeknit colonies…and we devour its nourishing essence as if starved souls in search of the sustenance that can be found only in its sticky sweetness. One taste and we are ruined for all other imitations… unheeding decorum and all manners, attracted to its sultry scent we lose our heads…it dribbles down our chins…we lick our hands in hope of catching any final remnants of its joyful juices. It is honey, and it is good~

Indeed, I learned the art of being today~

Bee itch~

Last week I met a Beekeeper….yes, a real life beekeeper…and she…OH! woman full of worldly travels and hard-won wisdom that she is, has lived several lifetimes and has yet to stop sojourneying! When I met her, I was so excited to have been introduced to an actual beekeeper…for some reason I have always been fascinated by this trade….and have likened it to the mysteriously lovely keepers of the lighthouse of long ago, or ferry men that used to row the boats back and forth across rivers, or bipartisan politicians….you know, all of those things you always heard were “out there” in this world at one point and time, but never actually got to see for your own very eyes….and here she was…earth-goddess-mama-beekeeper-shining-light-lady~

I still can’t pronounce her name (it is that cool), and I am sure it means something amazing profound and enlightening….I am quite sure in fact. I have only heard a short snippet of her story, but oh what a story it is…and tomorrow I am going to her farm to meet the bees, and to sit at her feet and just soak up her stories like a sponge….schluuuuuuuurp~

She tells me that much can be learned from bees…about our life, about ourselves, about divine order, everything and nothing... and much, much more.

I look forward to introducing myself to these makers of honey, and teachers of life….and very much look forward to being educated about all therein. Perhaps they can enlighten me (since they are surrounded by it on the daily) on the art to dealing with sweetness, yet not letting it overpower you…on diligence and teamwork, and not killing one another in these cramped colonies and honeycombs, on daily making their way about without getting mired down by the stickiness of it all…

Scratch.

Good morning sunshine, and thus my 30^th year on this earth begins…

Armed with a cup of coffee and pen poised….I remember.

I remember the return from Europe, where I came home from a fairytale…to a fairytale. The trip that taught me so very much about other cultures; different countries; myself----and the elusive concepts of “home” and “family.” The journey that opened my eyes to how very little I knew, and yet how very wise I can be, if I allow myself the space and time…and really look closely. Stop to feel that still, small voice—those inner words of (whispers) “wisdom.” Wisdom hard earned and costly…but wisdom nonetheless.

I recollect this exact same day last year vowing to myself adamantly that I indeed WOULD NOT be residing in my same humble jungle abode next year…only to waken today as I look around my same small “shanty by the sea” adamantly grateful to simply still be here, in Hawaii, safe and (most importantly!) roommate free!

I recall the people who have come and gone this year. Some steady satellites, orbiting around me always…yet never quite in my tangible physical realm…yet I feel them all the same…daily, surrounding me. Some are constant companions…the daily phone calls and the text messages just reaching out to “touch base” and let me know I am being thought of. The “community coasters”….those who I see at the grocery store, or the Farmer’s Market….we are cordial in passing; they remember my face always; I genuinely like them; they won’t recall my name tomorrow. And my person, my best friend, who is the last conversation at the end of the day…assuring me that I am not alone in this world…even when it may feel like it.

This year I have sold coffee with a smile (and some rockin’ glitter), slung hash (Lord, please never again), traveled the world like a solo gypsy rose, written copious amounts of “creative writing,” ---sold an article or two or three (sprinkled here and there,) and even landed myself a real, (albeit at times snoozefest) of a steady job…and I have reached that day (yes, today) of sitting here in my room and thinking to myself……

*Damn, it is quiet in here...

*I am sure I have some work I could be doing right now...

*My nose is running...

*My nose itches...

*My heart itches....

I will scratch…and silence this itch~